Lucifer in Starlight
by opalish
Summary: AU: Voldemort was a bit more cautious. So were the Potters. And now Harry's got a whole new load of problems. Slytherin!Harry with a number of twists.
1. Prologue: How the World Ends

HP is Not Mine. Got it? Good.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Prologue  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
"Poppy…?"  
  
The nurse, chalk white from exhaustion and worry, blinked at being addressed so late at night. Blearily peering at the person invading her realm of sterilized cleanliness, she belatedly recognized the speaker.  
  
"Headmaster! What can I do for you?"  
  
Pomfrey immediately berated herself for the inanity of her question. He was obviously in the infirmary to check on her current patient.  
  
Albus smiled slightly, though his eyes were surprisingly lackluster- no doubt from grief. After all, hadn't the Potters and young Sirius Black just been killed, with Remus Lupin accused as their betrayer and thrown into Azkaban?  
  
Then again, the news certainly wasn't all so terrible.  
  
Voldemort was gone.  
  
"First of all, Poppy, it is three in the morning. Should you not be asleep?"  
  
Poppy almost smiled at the question. The lad already being hailed as 'The Boy Who Lived' was in the next room, and here Dumbledore was, asking about her health. Only Albus….  
  
"Well, yes, but…. The boy is still in shock, Albus. I've tried everything I know to help him along, but not even the Sleeping Potions are working, and they were made by Severus!"  
  
Privately, Pomfrey somewhat doubted the Potions were good- Severus had expressed his disapproval of her methods with Harry Potter, saying the boy needed to come to terms on his own. Then again, the Sleeping Potions, when tested on another nurse, had certainly worked quite well. Mary was still snoring away in the corner of Poppy's office.  
  
Dumbledore merely nodded. "I take it, then, that young Harry is still awake?"  
  
The weary nurse nodded, her eyes suddenly quite grim. "Yes, and frankly Albus, it's beginning to unnerve me. He won't talk, won't react if you approach him, and won't respond to sensations or physical stimuli. Severus is under the impression that Mister Potter is purposefully ignoring us, trying to sort out what has happened. And I must admit that he isn't exhibiting the normal symptoms of shock. No shaking, no fever or chills, no blankness in his eyes or irrationality in his actions- what few he's made. He seems quite well but for the muteness. And, of course, the cut."  
  
She stopped speaking abruptly, her mouth shutting with an audible snap.  
  
Ah yes. The cut- gash was far more like it. It began on his forehead, slicing down jaggedly like lightning, before the tail end reached down over the bridge of the boys nose and onto his left cheek, going straight to the boy's jaw. It was hideous and disfiguring, and Poppy had shuddered to see the boy's angelic features so marred.  
  
Yes, the cut. Even now it was healing- though far more slowly than Poppy would normally have liked. However, his gash was caused not by any normal means, but instead by the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse. Which meant that in all likelihood, it would never fade away but would always remain, a visible reminder of Harry Potter's tragedy-ridden victory over Voldemort.  
  
And the child was only seven….  
  
"Might I look in on him?"  
  
Pomfrey almost snorted. The request was politely couched, of course, but the nurse knew quite well that Dumbledore would do whatever he pleased. This was, after all, his school. "Go ahead," she relented with little defiance in her tone. "The boy probably would be glad to see someone familiar."  
  
Obviously that was the wrong thing to say, for a calculating, speculative gleam suddenly lit up Albus' eyes. "Hmm…Madame, if you would fetch Professor Snape for me?"  
  
Poppy frowned, but sighed and nodded without so much as an annoyed remark. At the moment, she was too tired to do anything but comply.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Albus quietly entered the small cubicle currently housing Harry Potter, inwardly a tad nervous about what he might find. He'd only seen a glimpse of the boy when Severus portkeyed into his office the day before, bellowing for Pomfrey. He'd gotten but a rather quick look at the cut, and even that hadn't been very enlightening, as Potter's entire face had been covered in blood and the gash was thus disguised.  
  
Before yesterday, Albus had only met the young Harry a total of four times, all of which occured when Harry and his parents, for a very short time, left their safe home to visit Hogwarts to gain news on the war. Albus remembered a quiet, contemplative, pale yet remarkably handsome boy with a startling measure of insight and a distinctly Gryffindor-like air about him.  
  
Now, though….  
  
Harry was staring into the dark, his brilliant green eyes fixed on the ceiling above. His pallor was even more pronounced against the crisp white sheets of the infirmary bed, and his hands were fisted in the blanket he'd been given earlier by Poppy. His pale lips were pressed into a thin, straight line, and his breathing was deep and measured, as if the boy were forcing himself to take in oxygen.  
  
The young lad had always been an odd one. After all, for nearly his entire life he had been locked away in his house, forbidden to leave lest Death Eaters spot him. And no one besides his Godfather ever visited, as Sirius Black had faithfully kept the secret of the Potters' location from everyone, friend and foe alike. Only Lily and James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black himself had seen Harry with any regularity. Even then, Lupin and Pettigrew had never been able to visit the Potter home, both suspected of being traitors. Harry had had to meet them at their own homes, after the places were thoroughly checked out by Sirius, Lily, James, and Dumbledore himself.  
  
And now Lily, James, and Sirius were dead- and Harry had watched them die.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry knew quite well that Headmaster Dumbledore stood at the foot of his bed, waiting to be welcomed or acknowledged. Unfortunately for him, Harry didn't particularly want to welcome or acknowledge the old man. Dumbledore hadn't been there. He didn't know….  
  
*Why can't I cry? Why is there this strange emptiness in me, where tears and agony ought be?*  
  
*Or is it just that murderers don't deserve to cry?*  
  
"So, Harry," Dumbledore finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "How are you holding up?"  
  
*How do you THINK I'm holding up, you idiot?*  
  
"Harry…you'll need to speak to me sometime."  
  
*Maybe…right now I'd much rather not say a thing, thank you. Now leave me alone, you miserable old coot.*  
  
There was a soft sigh from Dumbledore, before Harry felt the man sit lightly on the side of his bed. He restrained the urge to scream at the Headmaster to leave him the hell alone, instead focusing all of his attention on the shadowed ceiling above.  
  
"Look at me, Harry."  
  
It was an order, there was no doubt about that. Harry nevertheless ignored it, keeping his face somewhat slack. *Wouldn't want Dumbledore to think I'm aware he is here.*  
  
Silence reigned supreme in the small room. Harry didn't blink, half-hoping that his eyes would tear up if he kept them dry long enough. It wasn't working.  
  
Why couldn't he just cry?  
  
"Harry, I need to know what happened," Dumbledore said gently.  
  
"I killed them." *Now bugger off.*  
  
"Killed who?" Dumbledore pushed. Harry, still refusing to look at the man, felt his jaw tighten in annoyance and anger.  
  
"Mum. Dad. Sirius. Voldemort."  
  
The last name he spat out, allowing emotion to briefly blaze in his eyes. Voldemort…Mum had never let Harry call him 'You-Know-Who' as Peter was wont to do.  
  
"How did you kill your parents and Sirius?" Still Dumbledore's voice was so very calm. Harry longed to do something to startle the man out of his complacency, to shock him to the core. Unfortunately, very little could shock the old man, and Harry knew lying, in this instance, was out of the question.  
  
But neither did he wish to tell the truth. "By living," he snarled, before shutting his mouth and closing his eyes, obviously ending the entire conversation. Dumbledore hesitated, before heaving a weary sigh and leaving.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"He won't tell me what happened," Albus said quietly to Severus. They were sitting alone in Dumbledore's office, only Fawkes there to witness the coming conversation.  
  
Snape almost rolled his eyes. Dumbledore was a great man and an excellent wizard and was rather good with adolescents, but he was clueless when it came to traumatized young children. "Yes, I'm sure he was eager to dredge up the raw memories of his family's death," Snape said dryly, his upper lip curling. "As children always are such masochists."  
  
The Headmaster of Hogwarts glared. "This is no laughing matter, Severus."  
  
"And I'm not laughing, Albus."  
  
"I need to know what happened." Albus' tone was firm, and the glitter in his blue eyes let Snape have no hope of escape. Glaring right back at Dumbledore, Snape gracelessly gave in.  
  
  
  
_____________________  
  
Severus stood before Voldemort, giving his report, one formulated ahead of time with Albus' help. "Dumbledore is searching for Black. He has alerted the Ministry as well as the Potters, though I've no idea how he was able to find them." Not even Dumbledore had been told by Black where the Potters lived.  
  
"Interesting," Voldemort murmured, his crimson eyes distant. "So the Potters will be leaving their current place and hiding anew, now that they know their Secret-Keeper has been captured."  
  
Severus sneered. "Perhaps, but Potter was a Gryffindor, and Evans all but one. It would be…in character…for them to attempt a rescue."  
  
Voldemort waved away Snape's conjectures with a thin, veined hand. "Ah, but they've the boy to look over. Not even Dumbledore would be foolhardy enough to risk the youngest Potter."  
  
Snape's reply was forestalled by an odd vibrating in the very air of Voldemort's throne room. The Death Eaters surrounding the talking duo shifted uneasily at the magic bunching around them- someone was trying to Apparate into the area when no one was due to arrive.  
  
Their Master stood easily, with that haunting grace that so often struck terror into his own minions' hearts- what little heart they retained after service with the Dark Lord. "Nott and Avery are coming," the man mused, tasting the magic around them. "And they bring someone with them…an innocent." He sniggered. "Perhaps Dumbledore wishes to trade himself for that miserable, mangy mutt," he suggested, sneering into the dark corner where a bloodied, beaten Sirius Black hung in chains, barely aware of his surroundings.  
  
Reluctantly, Severus felt a tad of respect for the man appear in him. Black was nearly dead of pain and blood loss, his mind in shambles from the tortures visited upon him, but he hadn't betrayed his friends.  
  
Severus also found himself wanting to congratulate Voldemort for his masterful alliteration- miserable mangy mutt, indeed.  
  
With an audible crash of pure chaotic noise, Nott and Avery arrived. And between them stood a child, one shaking in terror but with defiance in his gaze.  
  
With a sinking heart, Snape recognized the boy. He'd never before seen the lad, but he was the spitting image of his father.  
  
Except for his eyes. Those belonged solely to his mother.  
  
"If it isn't Harry Potter," Voldemort cackled gleefully. "Nott, Avery- however did you manage to find the little brat?"  
  
Nott swallowed nervously, but Avery, as always, was too dull to recognize the odd madness that occasionally overtook their Master, leading him to punish and kill his most faithful followers as well as his foes.  
  
"He found us," Avery said in his oily, naturally high-pitched tone, not noticing Nott slowly back away from him. "Came up to us in Godric's Hollow neat as you please, saying to take us to you."  
  
Every eye went to the trembling boy, some in awe and some simply confounded.  
  
"You have me now. You can let my godfather go," the boy said, his voice quaking but brave. Severus fought the urge to smash his head against the wall- how utterly Gryffindor of the boy! Good God, how stupid could one get?  
  
Then again, this was Potter's boy in question….  
  
"Do you even know who I am?" Voldemort asked in the stunned silence, leaning towards the lad, his blood-red eyes blazing with madness and power.  
  
Harry Potter, all of seven years old, swallowed and met the Dark Lord's gaze. "I may be stupid, but I'm not ignorant," the lad ground out, though his shaking had grown more pronounced. "Voldemort."  
  
Snape flinched in spite of himself at the name.  
  
"Ah, so you know who I am. Do you know what I am, though?" Voldemort sounded eerily amused, a twisted affection for the lad in his voice. Even Avery got up the wits to take a hurried step away, bumping into the retreating Nott as he did so.  
  
Harry didn't move. Staring into Voldemort's eyes as if hypnotized, he replied clearly, "Voldemort: meaning Flight from Death in Latin. The name belongs to a madman, a murderer, and a kidnapper."  
  
Snape sucked in a shocked breath. Was the boy determined to get himself killed?  
  
"A madman? Perhaps. A kidnapper, certainly. A murderer…hardly. I…cleanse. I kill only those who blemish this earth with their presence."  
  
"Well, I don't see you committing suicide, so you really aren't that effective," the boy replied, though his defiance was made laughable by his shaking.  
  
He knows he'd going to die, Severus realized with a start. And he's trying to goad the Dark Lord into anger to get it over with. Then he thought, almost idly: Since when has a Potter been able to actually plan? Must be Lily's influence.  
  
"No…Harry!"  
  
Harry's head snapped as he heard his godfather's voice calling to him from a dark corner of the room. Green eyes widened at the sight Sirius Black made, hanging from the wall in chains, blood running in thick rivulets down his body. The Potter boy looked sickened.  
  
"Let him go," Harry demanded, his small hands twitching. "Please…let him go and I'll let you kill me."  
  
Voldemort laughed out loud at that, as did many of the Death Eaters. "Let me? Boy, you couldn't stop me."  
  
Severus was the only one who noted how the lad was surreptitiously reaching into his jacket pocket. Searching for a wand, perhaps? Fool boy…no wand was powerful enough to hold off the Dark Lord. Perhaps Lily hadn't influenced the Potter bloodline as much as Severus had hoped.  
  
"Let him go," Harry repeated, his voice stronger. "And I'll do whatever you want. Let him go."  
  
________________________  
  
  
  
Dumbledore shook his head as Snape paused in the middle of his tale. "Too brave for his own good. Foolhardy as all Potters are…he'll be a Gryffindor, no doubt."  
  
Snape snorted. "Oh, you haven't heard it all, sir. The boy may look exactly like his father, but he has his mother's cunning…and a good sense of dramatic irony as well."  
  
  
  
________________________  
  
"I rather think not," Voldemort replied calmly. "Now be a good boy and die." The Dark Lord raised his wand, smirking in triumph. The Death Eaters sniggered at their master's 'wit', and Severus gritted his teeth at his inability to do anything. Sirius moaned in the corner.  
  
And Harry pulled a gun out from the pocket of his small jacket.  
  
The pistol was overlarge for the boy, but it was cocked and ready…and Voldemort was too near the boy for it to miss.  
  
The next few moments were utter chaos.  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
"Harry shot Voldemort?" Albus demanded, eyes wide.  
  
Severus nodded, bleak amusement in his obsidian gaze. "Right through his gut, with a muggle weapon. Of course, Harry wasn't strong enough to stand his ground- the kick from the pistol sent him sprawling. The Death Eaters were running about like headless chickens, while…Voldemort…bled. But it wasn't enough to bring him down.  
  
"Then James and Lily Apparated in- they'd found out belatedly what their son had decided on doing. Apparently the gun was Lily's, kept loaded and hidden in case of an attack.  
  
"They were astounded at what Harry had done, it was plain enough, but then James leapt at Voldemort and Lily rushed over to Harry, taking out a good few Death Eaters on the way. Even so wounded, though, Voldemort easily killed James with the Killing Curse. Black put up a bit of a fuss at that, and was being an irritation, so Malfoy took him out- after all, Voldemort no longer needed Black to find Potter.  
  
"Voldemort advanced on Lily and Harry. Lily took out her wand and tried to curse Voldemort- silly girl, did she really think she could cast a Cruciatus that would affect the Dark Lord? Voldemort merely batted the wand out of her hand. She begged him for her son's life, while the remaining Death Eaters laughed even as they incinerated their own dead. Voldemort killed her- snapped her head clean off with a Cutting Curse. And then…."  
  
  
  
________________________  
  
Harry was staring at his mother's body, at the hoard of laughing Death Eaters. A few were silent, however. Some of the silent ones were under the Imperius…and then there was Snape.  
  
There was Sirius, dead in his chains. His dad, lying sprawled at Voldemort's feet. And his mum…. He couldn't even look at that grotesque sight.  
  
With flat eyes ablaze in fury, Harry stared up at the Dark Lord. Voldemort was glaring furiously at him, his wand before him, soaked in his own blood, red eyes on fire with hatred. Ah yes, angry from being shot.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Harry screamed.  
  
Voldemort screamed.  
  
The Death Eaters stood frozen, shocked at the sight of their Master crying out.  
  
And Voldemort disappeared.  
  
__________________________  
  
  
  
"Those who had been under the Imperius and those with a taste for which way the wind was blowing immediately turned on those still loyal to their fallen lord. I grabbed Potter in the confusion and Apparated to Hogsmeade, and then took the passage from the Shrieking Shack to Hogwarts.  
  
"And before you ask, I don't know who it was- Lupin or Pettigrew- who betrayed Black to the Dark Lord. His trust in me was waning towards the end, so he kept that a well-guarded secret."  
  
Albus sighed. "Pettigrew indicated that it was Lupin to the Ministry, a mere hour after Voldemort disappeared. They believed him without question, due to Remus'…background. Remus has been sentenced to life in Azkaban."  
  
Severus sneered. "How convenient for Pettigrew, to have such a foil. And none found Pettigrew's timing and lack of evidence odd?"  
  
"Apparently not," Albus said darkly. "Myself, I doubt Remus would ever betray his friends. And now Harry has no one at all…. For I'll not trust the boy to Pettigrew, not when in likelihood it was he who betrayed young Sirius and the rest. But didn't Lily have a sister?"  
  
Severus barely managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes…Poppy or Pansy or Petunia…something dreadful like that. As fully muggle as a muggle can be, Albus."  
  
"Hmm…. Perhaps in Harry's case, though, this would be best. A normal place, where he can have as normal a childhood as possible."  
  
"Albus, is this another of your inappropriate jokes? Normal childhood? The boy's seen his parents and godfather killed before his very eyes. He himself has banished the Dark Lord at but seven years of age. And I assure you, even without these factors, he would in no way be normal. His vocabulary is far beyond most children's, and his wit is particularly sharp. He is quite extraordinary."   
  
At any other time, Snape would be horrified with himself for so naming a hated Potter. But right now, after the banishment of Voldemort- Severus was too cynical to believe him gone forever- he let down his guard slightly and told the total truth as he saw it.  
  
"So normality is long overdue for him. And they are blood relatives, Severus. He'll be safe there."  
  
If he can ever be safe again, considering who he is, what he's done…. But Severus merely nodded, disapproval clear in his eyes. Dumbledore had made up his mind, and Snape knew nothing he said would change it.  
  
THUS ENDS THE BEGINNING  
  
________________________________________________________ 


	2. Chapter One: Back Home to Hogwarts

Harry Potter, all of eleven years old, was headed to Hogwarts.  
  
Despite all of his aunt's and uncle's attempts to 'beat the magic out of the freak', Harry had persevered, taking the punishment as his due for being a murderer. But nothing could keep him away from the magical world.   
  
At first, when he was only seven and still new at the Dursley's, he'd decided to disown magic altogether. But only a few months had passed until he'd realized his own foolishness. Magic hadn't corrupted him, hadn't caused his parents' deaths. After all, all his troubles were because of a gun- a muggle weapon. No, magic was nothing more than a tool, a sense- like sight, like hearing. Not evil and not good. Magic simply was.  
  
And Harry was simply magical.  
  
Truth be told, Harry knew quite a bit about magic. Hidden in Godric's Hollow for the first several years of his life, Harry had been allowed to perform magic as he pleased. Using his parents' wands, he'd easily learned the basics of spell casting from his father, as well as several more complicated works. And Lily…well, his mum had taught him quite extensively in the practical magics- Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and the Dark Arts themselves. At seven, Harry had been quite accomplished.  
  
Now, four years later, Harry easily remembered every single thing his parents had taught him. During his exile from the Wizarding World (yes, exile for being a murderer, banishment at Dumbledore's hands) he'd gone over his knowledge with an almost fanatical edge. His parents had given him this knowledge, and Harry was determined to carry on this last bit of them in his own mind.  
  
He'd also made a habit of sneaking away to a nearby wizarding book store, where the proprietor, an ancient woman who delighted in his visits, gave him anything he wanted for free. He'd taught himself advanced Potions and Herbology, and spent a great deal of time learning Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and other branches of magic. He'd become something of an expert on Magical Theory, as well, and the old book-seller had taken it upon herself to teach him Divination.  
  
And now he was headed to Hogwarts. He had his own wand, one that fit him far better than his parents' wands ever had. He had books full of learning, and he had a familiar.  
  
Well, technically he had three familiars…but Hogwarts need only know about Hedwig. Neasa and Ulysses would remain secret, along with Harry's extra little knacks...including his ability to talk to snakes.  
  
Now, aboard the Hogwarts Express and already changed into his robes, Harry was seated alone in a small compartment. A chubby blond-haired girl had tried to come in earlier.  
  
Harry had merely given her a Look, and she'd scurried away with a squeak.  
  
~Master isn't happy,~ Neasa remarked from where she lay twined about his right arm, her triangular head peeking out of his sleeve. ~Perhaps Master should speak with other two-legs.~  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile at the snake. In her normal form, she was two yards long, but Harry had managed to shrink her- not using his wand, of course. Wands were too easily traced.  
  
Now she was quite small enough to hide under his clothes, as was the normally enormous Ulysses.  
  
The two serpents were beautiful, Neasa an emerald green with sparkling golden undertones and Ulysses a reddish brown. Harry had found Neasa in Knockturn Alley when he was readying himself for school, and Ulysses a few months earlier at a muggle zoo. Ulysses was a Brazilian boa constrictor Harry had set free and taken in. Normally long enough to wrap twice around a muggle car, Ulysses was currently only a couple feet long.  
  
So far, they were his only friends. Ever.  
  
~I'm fine, Neasa. But didn't I ask you to call me Harry?~  
  
That was another thing- with Voldemort's death, Harry's power levels had risen dramatically. He guessed that somehow, he'd managed to absorb something of Voldemort's powers- including parseltongue. At eleven, he should never have been able to do controlled wandless magic.  
  
Now, though, he found it, if not easy, then doable.  
  
~Indeed you did, Harry,~ Ulysses spoke up from his other sleeve. ~But Neasa is lost in the past, when serpents all served Speakers.~  
  
Neasa hissed her annoyance at Ulysses, before withdrawing entirely into Harry's sleeve. Ulysses did a rather amusing little victory-slither, watched by Hedwig in annoyance. The owl seemed to have developed a taste for snake since Harry bought her.  
  
Turning back to his window, he almost leapt in surprise when the door to his compartment slid open and two tallish redheaded boys, obviously twins, entered. "Is it true?" one asked eagerly.   
  
"Some girl came running through the halls, yelling that Harry Potter was in here," the other explained.  
  
Harry simply let them get a good look at his face. Everyone in Diagon Alley, after all, had immediately known who he was by the scar.  
  
The boys' eyes widened, then narrowed in sympathetic grimaces, both in tandem. Harry fought down an amused smirk.  
  
"Youch," the second murmered.  
  
"Must've hurt," the first one agreed. "Oh, I'm George, by the way."  
  
"And I'm Fred," the second redhead offered.  
  
"Weasley," elaborated George.  
  
"And you, of course, are Harry Potter," Fred finished.  
  
Harry blinked. "I am," he admitted warily.  
  
"Well, nice to meet you," George added, grinning.  
  
"But we really must fly. Lee has a new tarantula we simply must see."  
  
"Hope to see you in Gryffindor!"  
  
And with that, the Weasley twins left. Harry, smiling, translated the encounter into parselmouth for his familiars.  
  
~Good Lord,~ Ulysses muttered. ~A tarantula, you say? Hmm…been a while since I ate one of those. Always a nice snack.~ Hedwig clacked her beak in obvious agreement.  
  
Harry sighed and shut his eyes. He was obviously utterly surrounded by incompetents.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Nary an hour passed before the door opened again. Harry, quite awake and well aware of the presence of an intruder, didn't bother to open his eyes. Neasa was quietly telling him everything he needed to know.  
  
~Three two-feet, Master- two that are muscle, one smaller and lighter in the lead. They're staring at you…they think you sleep. Obviously they are incompetent, if they didn't even sense the wards you set.~  
  
~Children, and young at that,~ Ulysses added disdainfully. ~Only the scrawny one has any power, and there is a dark air to them.~  
  
"Hmph," Harry heard one of the new boys say. "Doesn't look like much to me."  
  
"Look at that scar, though," a thicker, slower voice said, awed. "Wicked!"  
  
"Unseemly," the first one contradicted. "Practically slicing his whole face in two. Don't see why he doesn't cover it."  
  
*Because it's my badge, you idiot! It shows what I am- a freak and a murderer. It keeps people away.*  
  
~What do they say?~ Neasa demanded.  
  
~Shut it, Nee. He obviously can't tell us until they leave.~  
  
Harry wanted more than anything to laugh.  
  
"I find it hard to believe that little thing could even lift a gun," the first boy was saying. "Much less defeat the Dark Lord. No doubt he's another one for Gryffindor. They say his father was in Gryffindor…yes, yes, disgusting, isn't it."  
  
*Gryffindor? A murderer in Gryffindor, the famed House of the Brave? Well, then…they'll be in for a shock.* Mum had always called him her little Slytherin. She knew something…then again, she was a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaws often see things others don't.  
  
"Should we wake 'im up?" a third boy queried slowly.  
  
"Honestly, Goyle, how stupid are you?" the first boy snapped. "Wake him up? Have you no delicacy? No tact?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Harry drawled, smirking widely as he opened his eyes to gaze upon three rather startled young boys. "It's hardly 'tactful' to talk about someone while they're sleeping a bare foot away." Hedwig hooted her agreement from her cage, a distinctly mocking look in her eyes.  
  
"I…I apologize if I woke you," said the slim, blond boy who seemed to be the leader. He looked rather startled. *Serves him right…it's stupidity, to barge in here and talk about me without even casting a charm to see if I'm awake!*  
  
Harry waved a hand, dismissing the other boy's apology. "No need to worry- I was awake the whole time."  
  
His cold smirk grew as the other boy blushed. "Now, if you will please leave me…?"  
  
The blond boy signaled the other two hulking boys away. The obviously dim boys hesitated a moment before reluctantly leaving, shooting Harry resentful looks.  
  
"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond boy said with an odd air of expectation.  
  
"Sorry. Never heard of you. Are the Malfoys important?" Harry asked with false innocence. He knew quite well about the Malfoy family- his father and Sirius had always cursed a certain Lucius Malfoy- he'd apparently been a Death Eater. Of course, like so many others, he'd managed to get away with it by claiming Voldemort had controlled him.  
  
And the idiot Minister had let him go, not even checking Malfoy's innocence with a truth serum. Not that it would work very well, unless it was quite strong- Voldemort had trained his most trusted servants to hold up under such potions.  
  
Draco reddened again, this time with a hint of annoyance in him. "Quite so," he said shortly.  
  
"Hmm. Well, nice to meet you. If you don't mind, I would like to get back to sleep." Not sparing another moment, Harry closed his eyes in dismissal, inwardly chuckling as he imagined the look on Malfoy's face at the moment.  
  
Nearly an entire minute passed before Draco left, sliding the compartment door shut with a bang as he did so.  
  
Harry didn't even twitch.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
~I don't like him,~ Harry told Neasa and Ulysses a few moments later. ~Arrogance I can handle, but the brat was obviously conceited. Besotted with power. Did you see how he treated his little cronies?~  
  
Neasa hissed. ~No snake would ever allow itself to be ordered around so peremptorily. We call only the Speakers 'master'…and some of us do not even do that,~ she added with a venomous glare at the other snake.  
  
~Yes, this Dragon Boy is dark,~ Ulysses murmured, unconcerned with Neasa's wrath. ~But of course, so are you, Harry. But you are dark from your experiences…and that boy seems dark merely because it is how he was raised. Hardly more independent than those two servants of his. Though if he can be coaxed to grow a backbone, he would make a good ally.~  
  
~You compare our Master to that Dragon Boy?~ Neasa hissed in outrage. ~Master is ten times the worth of that little runt.~  
  
~I do not argue with that conclusion, Neasa. But the Dragon Boy may one day be more than a spineless worm.~  
  
~And I am not your Master,~ Harry snapped. ~You chose to come with me. I have never treated you as anything less than my comrades. Call me 'Master' again and I will take offense.~  
  
Ulysses and Neasa both blinked up at him, startled by the anger in his voice. ~As you wish, M…Harry,~ Neasa finally replied, an odd note in her sibilant voice.  
  
Ulysses remained silent, smug in the knowledge that HE had never done anything wrong.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Firs' years! Firs' years, this way!"  
  
Harry stared at the gargantuan man gesturing to them. He looked familiar…oh, yes, it was Hagrid. Harry had met him on the few occasions he'd come to Hogwarts to visit as a child.  
  
Harry had always had a soft spot for the large man. After all, Hagrid had always treated him like a friend rather than a little annoying boy, and the giant had visited him often while he was recovering from his fight with Voldemort. He rated high on Harry's rather pitifully small list of 'People Worth Knowing'.  
  
Other than Hagrid, Harry had only three dead people listed in that book, as well as a man interned at Azkaban, two snakes, an owl, an elderly book-seller, and an ex-Death-Eater-turned-Potions-teacher.  
  
Hagrid had cried when Harry was sent away.  
  
So Hagrid was a friend. At the very least, Harry would trust him with his life. Perhaps not anything else- no secrets would be safe with the other man- but his life certainly would.  
  
"Hello," he said quietly as he made his way over the enormous man. "Haven't seen you for a while."  
  
Hagrid blinked, looking down at him. "'Arry?" he asked in astonishment, before grinning. "'Arry!" As quickly as that, Hagrid swept Harry up in a hug, to the startlement of the other first years.  
  
"'Arry! Ye remember me? 's been years!"  
  
Harry smiled bitterly when Hagrid finally put him down. That had been the first hug he'd received in... "Three years, eight months. And of course I remember you, Hagrid. You were kind to me."  
  
You cared. And about me, not just about The Boy Who Bloody Lived. You cared about Harry, the little orphan boy.  
  
"But still…so long, and you were jus' a liddle mite…. And now a firs' year." Hagrid smiled at him almost proudly, making Harry's heart twinge oddly. Then Hagrid's face fell. "Er…I'd love to talk, 'Arry, but there ain't time…. Get in a boat, will yer? And come visit me hut as soon as possible. Promise?"  
  
"Promise," Harry replied solemnly. Hagrid beamed, and Harry's heart squeezed oddly again.  
  
His jaw clenched to hold back tears, Harry blindly made his way to the nearest boat, ignoring the stares he got the moment the other children in his boat saw his scar.  
  
Hagrid hadn't even looked at the scar.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry recognized Professor McGonagall easily. The years since Voldemort's fall hadn't been kind to the Deputy Headmistress- new lines marked her stern face, though her hair remained as inky black as ever, like Harry's own. However, unlike Harry's perpetually messy hair, McGonagall's hair was neat and orderly, not unlike the woman herself.  
  
She recognized him but, to Harry's own gratitude, she didn't acknowledge his presence any more so than she did any of the other children. Though her eyes did briefly set on a tallish redheaded boy- a younger Weasley?- as she talked about making themselves presentable.  
  
Harry didn't bother trying to smooth down his hair. It never worked, and besides, he didn't want to jostle Neasa and Ulysses too much.  
  
He had to smirk in amusement when he heard the others muttering in fright about the sorting. Honestly- it was only a hat! Wrestling trolls indeed!  
  
Harry hung behind as the group walked into the Great Hall. Nervousness fluttered in his stomach when he saw the enormous number of children in the Hall. First locked in his house, then in his aunt's cupboard, he'd never been in such a crowd, around so many people. Even at school, Harry stayed away from everyone, always a loner.  
  
But here…there were hundreds of them! The sheer noise they managed to generate was astounding.  
  
Then came the ghosts.  
  
Squeals from frightened first years sounded like goblin music through the hall, prompting raucous laughter from the older students.  
  
Harry kept his gaze firmly away from the ghosts. Living death...they were abominations, ghosts were. They always gave him the creeps.  
  
He'd already seen too much death. He had no desire to look upon any more.  
  
Ignoring all else that went on around him, Harry studiously studied his frayed sneakers, just peaking through under his robes. They looked oddly out of place at Hogwarts, as if their inherent non-magical nature was a taint upon the school.  
  
Well, if that was so, then the school could just remain tainted. Silly prejudices like those of purebloods against muggleborns were juvenile and pointless, and Harry would have no part of them. His mum had been a muggleborn, and she'd been more powerful than his father, even- a Potter, one of a long line of powerful purebloods. And Voldemort himself had been the son of a muggle, though he denied it. Harry doubted many people in the world knew this at all- Harry only knew because he'd seen it in one of his visions.  
  
Power hadn't been the only thing transferred to Harry when Voldemort tried to kill him. Knowledge had come too- spells and memories, experiences and emotions. Too much for Harry to even sort through, so he shoved all of it to the back of his mind. He only let it out in his sleep.  
  
Another person might have felt sympathy for Tom Riddle, for what he'd gone through as a child.  
  
Harry privately thought Riddle had been an idiot, and a vicious one at that. The boy had no sympathy to spare for murderers, including himself.  
  
Abruptly, the hat burst into song, effectively jolting Harry out of his silent reverie. He blinked- his Mum had never told him anything about the hat actually singing! His dad had probably told her not to…James Potter had been horrified with his wife for spilling the beans about what actually happened during the sorting. Apparently he'd been planning on telling Harry that he had to defeat a Dark Wizard to be allowed into Gryffindor.  
  
*Been there, done that. Without a wand.*  
  
Finally, then, the hat fell silent and the actual sorting began, with McGonagall calling out the students' names.  
  
Harry almost smiled.   
  
Alphabetical order. Of course. Which meant he had forever and a day to go before he himself was sorted.   
  
*Lovely. Just lovely.*  
  
"Abbott, Hannah!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
Hmm…Hufflepuff. The House of Miscellany, of those who fit nowhere else, those with patience and loyalty.  
  
Perhaps he'd end up there.  
  
"Bones, Susan!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
Then again, he wasn't exactly known for his patience.  
  
He noted with absent interest that Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin. However, he was rather more interested in the fact that the 'P's were drawing near.  
  
"Parkinson," went to Slytherin, "Patil" and "Patil" went to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, "Perks" was another for Slytherin…. Then….  
  
"Potter, Harry!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry was almost amused at the resounding silence that stifled the room the moment McGonagall shouted his name.  
  
He stepped forward, striding to the hat. Might as well get this over with. There was no point drawing it out for the sake of melodrama. And Harry wanted the stares to end.  
  
Fat chance of that ever happening.  
  
He finally reached the stool and quickly yet smoothly sat, putting the hat on his head. He frowned slightly in annoyance when it slipped over his eyes, obscuring his view of the hall. His neck prickled at the feeling of being so blinded in the midst of such a crowd. All of his instincts shouted at him to rip the hat off and get OUT.  
  
Harry did neither.  
  
"Hmm…plenty of bravery in there, oh yes. Nerve and daring abound. But you are not unwary, and your foolhardiness has been suppressed. Interesting…a child with a good deal of control. And power. Oh yes, there is power!  
  
"Not a bad mind, not at all. Excellent memory, indeed, with a perceptiveness that belies your age. Then again, they say that wisdom comes with experience…and you've had your share of that. Clever you are, with quite a bit of wit. Cynical enough for Rowena's house…a trait that would not be looked upon as natural in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.  
  
"Loyal…yes, very loyal, but not blindly so. And not at all patient, unless it is needed. But sly, yes, and cunning. You could be great, boy, great."  
  
"So said Ollivander when he gave me my wand," Harry replied rather dryly. "You're considering me for Slytherin, aren't you?"  
  
"As I said, you are perceptive. But you should say I am considering Slytherin for you, not you for Slytherin. There is a difference. Brave, perceptive, clever, loyal, powerful… And there's darkness in you, but not evil. Too few are properly dark these days…darkness has become something curdled in most, something wretched and grotesque. But in you…. You are what a Slytherin ought to be, boy. Dark but not evil, cunning but not hurtful."  
  
*What a Slytherin ought to be…. In Slytherin, I would be strong. And what happened with Voldemort would never happen again. No one else would die because of me.*  
  
"Perhaps, boy. But power doesn't make you a god…something too many of the dark forget. Nevertheless, I think you will be an aid to us all in SLYTHERIN!"  
  
Once more, silence filled the Great Hall. Everyone stared, stunned, as Harry pulled off the hat and set it down on the stool.  
  
The Boy Who Lived, in Slytherin? Impossible! Harry almost smiled at the irony.  
  
Of everyone in the hall, only a few looked as if this had come as expected. Snape was one, and Dumbledore.  
  
Amidst the silence, Harry walked to the Slytherin table.  
  
He received no applause.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Thanks for the lovely reviews! 


	3. Chapter Two: Snitched

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry or any of his friends. Do not sue, as I own nothing but an ancient laptop and some cheese.  
  
Author's Notes: Lily was Ravenclaw in my little world, not Gryffindor- mostly because I'd written the first two chapters before Book 5 came out, and only just got around to posting. And Harry might seem a bit bookish at first, but he's really not- he just didn't have anything else to do at the Dursleys' but read.  
  
After this chapter, I'll update about once a week. Feel free to badger me for more if I take too much time, though. ;-)  
  
Check out my HP ficlets under the pen-name 'Sapientia Veritas'- there's a link in my 'favorite authors' list.  
  
One more matter- anyone out there willing to beta for me? I'd prefer someone with experience, as I'm new to the fandom. Thanks!  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Malfoy left him alone until they arrived at the Slytherin Common Room.   
  
Then-  
  
"Potter. How did *you* get into Slytherin?"  
  
Neasa hissed at the other boy's query, while Ulysses did the equivalent of   
  
a snake snicker. Harry would have been amused by Malfoy's sneering tone if he   
  
weren't so utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally. As it was, he merely   
  
sighed inwardly and drawled back, "Well, I put on this hat...."  
  
Some of the other Slytherins- all of whom were blatantly eavesdropping-   
  
sniggered. Malfoy went a rather unbecoming red.  
  
"You watch your back, Potter," the blond boy hissed, gray eyes flashing.   
  
"My father's on the Board of Governors, and he'll be keeping a careful eye on   
  
you."  
  
"Good for him," Harry replied, unconcerned. And then he brushed past an   
  
outraged Draco Malfoy and headed straight for the dorms, already knowing where   
  
they were due to Riddle's memories.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
At breakfast the next day, Harry carefully evaluated each of his fellow   
  
year-mates in Slytherin.  
  
Draco Malfoy was the one he knew best, of course. Malfoy was spoiled and   
  
conceited, the son of a Death Eater and the epitome of Slytherin characteristics.   
  
He was cunning, clever, arrogant and sly. Harry would have to be wary of the   
  
blond.  
  
Malfoy's two little guards- Crabbe and Goyle- were dumb as blocks and   
  
obvious bullies. They were no danger to Harry, unless they managed to get his   
  
wand from him.  
  
Theodore Nott was a little more difficult to classify. He was, like   
  
Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle, a Death Eater's son. But he was also quiet and dark,   
  
fading into the shadows. Stick thin and deathly pale, Nott nevertheless exuded an   
  
air of vast intelligence.  
  
Blaise Zabini was the last of the boys. Swarthy and slender, Zabini was   
  
as quiet as Nott and as sly as Malfoy. He was also the only Slytherin boy other   
  
than Harry himself who wasn't related to a Death Eater. In fact, the Zabinis   
  
were, despite their Slytherin tendencies, steadfast supporters of the Light.  
  
Pansy Parkinson had already made herself ringleader of the girls. She was   
  
blond and pug-faced, malicious and belligerent. She lacked the intelligence that   
  
could have made her truly dangerous, however.  
  
Millicent Bulstrode was thickset and tall. Harry almost wrote her off as   
  
being a female Goyle, but there was something in Millicent's eyes- a hidden   
  
cleverness- that made him hesitate. She followed Pansy's lead, but Harry was   
  
willing to bet she had her own secret agendas.  
  
Daphne Greengrass was a gossip- cruel and sharp and utterly dull. Tracey   
  
Davis was quieter but no more interesting.  
  
Picking at a piece of toast, Harry pondered his choices. He'd be wary   
  
around Nott, but would attempt to gain his companionship. He'd also try to   
  
cultivate Bulstrode and Zabini. The others...well, he'd be cordial to all but   
  
Malfoy, but he'd also be distant from them. He needed allies that were worth   
  
spending time on.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~  
  
  
  
The classes were almost disgustingly simple, Harry soon found. Astronomy   
  
would be interesting, but Herbology seemed a waste of time. Sprout was horribly   
  
cheerful and kind, and her classes just as sickening.  
  
Flitwick knew his subject well, but Harry found the first year work quite   
  
easy. So far all they were doing was learning the proper wand movements-   
  
something his mum had taught him when he was still a toddler.  
  
History was horrible. Harry used the class as a nap-time, and most of the   
  
others followed his lead. Binns didn't even notice.  
  
Transfiguration was a bit of a bright spot- they'd actually jumped right   
  
in, instead of dithering on about theory. Harry still found the subject far too   
  
easy, transfiguring his match in a matter of minutes. McGonagall had been   
  
pleasantly surprised, and awarded Slytherin fifteen points.  
  
Harry had actually been a bit worried about McGonagall- he'd thought she   
  
might discriminate against Slytherins, or would hate him for not being in his   
  
father's house. He'd underestimated the woman, though- she was scrupulously fair,   
  
and treated him with a hint of warmth that was missing with her other students.  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts was utterly horrible. Not only was the   
  
class a joke, but the teacher gave Harry the willies. Harry left the classroom   
  
with a splitting headache and the fervent desire to strangle Quirrell with his own   
  
turban.  
  
Potions was by far the most interesting class, especially as it was the   
  
one class Harry had no real head start in.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
The morning of his first Potions class- a Friday- Harry received his first   
  
letter. Hagrid had written, asking him to come on down for tea later on. Harry   
  
showed the letter to Blaise and Theodore, and they agreed to accompany him. Harry   
  
had been quite successful in winning them over, though he was still surprised at   
  
the ease with which he'd gained Nott's favor.  
  
Harry was one of the first ones in the classroom, and made a point of   
  
sitting towards the front of the room. He silently beckoned Millicent over,   
  
deciding to work on her, now that he'd gotten Blaise and Theodore.  
  
"Any reason you want me around, Potter?" Millicent asked bluntly as she   
  
sat next to him.  
  
Harry shrugged. "You seem to be one of the few people in our class worth   
  
knowing," he replied truthfully. "And I can use as many friends as I can get."  
  
"'Use' being the keyword," the girl drawled. Nevertheless, she grinned at   
  
him and held out a hand. Harry shook it, mentally congratulating himself.  
  
The dungeon classroom was dank and rather cold, but Harry didn't mind- he   
  
rather liked the cold.  
  
He noted with some amusement that the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were   
  
separated, an invisible line keeping each to their own side of the room. Harry   
  
was rather less amused by the Gryffindors' blatant stares in his direction.  
  
Finally Snape arrived, robes billowing as he stalked into the room.  
  
Snape took roll, thankfully not squeaking at Harry's name as Flitwick had   
  
done. Then again, Harry had trouble imagining Snape squeaking at *anything*.   
  
Snape seemed more of a hissing kind of guy.  
  
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,"   
  
Harry's Head of House began. Snape spoke quietly but clearly, his cold black eyes   
  
intent. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly   
  
believe this is magic."  
  
Harry doubted that- what kind of muggle subject involved phoenix tears and   
  
dragon blood?  
  
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly   
  
simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that   
  
creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...."  
  
The beauty of the softly simmering cauldron? Snape was obviously secure   
  
in his sexuality- Harry couldn't imagine any other man saying such a sentence   
  
without sounding like Martha Stewart.  
  
"I can teach you how to bottle fame-"  
  
Harry had no need for that, obviously. He was quite famous enough   
  
already.  
  
"-brew glory-"  
  
Well, that might not be so horrible.  
  
"-even stopper death."  
  
Harry froze. Ah, Sirius...mum, dad.... If he'd only been able to stop   
  
*their* deaths....  
  
"If," Snape added, his tone changing, "you aren't as big a bunch of   
  
dunderheads as I usually have to teach."  
  
Harry glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. And there went Snape's hopes and   
  
dreams....  
  
Snape glanced over at him and followed his gaze, his lips quirking   
  
slightly as he realized what Harry was thinking. Then his own gaze sharpened.  
  
"Potter," he said shortly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of   
  
asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"  
  
Harry bit his lip, trying to recall what he'd read during his exile.   
  
"Er...the Draft of Living Death?"  
  
"Draught of Living Death," Snape corrected sharply. "But good enough.   
  
Five points to Slytherin."  
  
Snape then looked straight at a tall redheaded Gryffindor. The man's   
  
expression turned malicious. "Weasley!" he barked. "Where would you look if I   
  
told you to find me a bezoar?"  
  
A bushy-haired girl's hand shot into the air, and she was practically   
  
falling off her seat in excitement. Weasley merely looked befuddled.  
  
"I dunno," the redhead said, shrugging. He'd flushed a rather violent   
  
red, the color clashing horribly with his hair.  
  
Snape sneered. "Yet another Weasley lacking a brain," he said, seeming to   
  
delight in Weasley's fury and embarrassment. Then Snape looked over at the   
  
Slytherins.  
  
"Nott- can you help our redheaded friend out?"  
  
"Stomach of a goat," Theodore said succinctly and quietly. The   
  
bushy-haired Gryffindor sank back into her seat, looking disappointed. Harry   
  
rolled his eyes.  
  
"Let's try again, Weasley," Snape said, his teeth bared in a smirk.   
  
"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"  
  
The bushy-haired girl was actually wriggling now, making little 'ooh'   
  
sounds. Obviously a Ravenclaw at heart, no matter where she was put, Harry   
  
thought to himself. Millicent was sniggering next to him, both at the Gryffinclaw   
  
and Weasley's predicament.  
  
"Dunno," Weasley said shortly, gaze fixed on his desk. Harry felt rather   
  
sorry for the boy- he himself hated being singled out, and knew exactly how the   
  
redhead was feeling.  
  
"No, of course you don't," Snape said contemptuously. "And Granger, *be   
  
quiet*!" The Gryffinclaw lowered her hand, frowning.  
  
"Potter," Snape drawled, "Do you know? Or should I give up on the entire   
  
class?"  
  
Harry sighed. "They're the same thing," he said quietly, offering no more   
  
information. Snape shot him a sharp look, then nodded.  
  
"Yes, and they're also called aconite." He paused. "Well? Why aren't   
  
you taking this down?"  
  
Harry hurriedly pulled out a quill and some parchment, noting that Granger   
  
already had half a foot of notes. Merlin- the girl was unbelievable.  
  
They eventually began to brew a simple boil-cure solution. Harry and   
  
Millicent worked fairly well together, Harry measuring and cutting the ingredients   
  
and Millicent adding them to the mixture. Harry found that Millicent had a knack   
  
for knowing just how much to add and when to add it. Harry's precise measurements   
  
and her instinctive proclivity for Potions led to a perfect product.  
  
They were the first ones done. Snape awarded Slytherin ten points, then   
  
stalked over to snipe at Weasley. Harry sat back at studied the other students.  
  
Granger was doing very well. Nearby, however- not three yards from Harry-   
  
were a pair of blond Gryffindor boys who were struggling badly. Harry vaguely   
  
recognized them as Finnigan and Longbottom.  
  
Harry froze when Longbottom picked up a handful of porcupine quills.   
  
"Longbottom!" he hissed.  
  
The chubby boy blinked at him. "Put the quills in *after* the cauldron is   
  
off the fire," Harry murmured, glancing over to where Snape was praising Malfoy.   
  
"Or you'll melt the cauldron entirely."  
  
A few nearby Slytherins scowled at him in annoyance, while the nearby   
  
Gryffindors seemed most surprised that he would help. Longbottom merely nodded,   
  
blushed, and put the quills back down.  
  
By the end of the period, only one cauldron had been destroyed- Crabbe's,   
  
when Goyle added the horned slugs too late. Snape blamed Weasley, took points off   
  
Gryffindor, and sent the two idiot Slytherins to the infirmary. Harry shook his   
  
head as he packed up his own materials.  
  
"He's really got it in for the Gryffindors," he murmured to Millicent as   
  
they left the class.  
  
"What clued you in?" Millicent drawled with a twisted grin. "And why in   
  
Merlin's name did you help that Longbottom boy?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "He could have been badly hurt," he replied mildly.  
  
Millicent shook her head. "What the hell is wrong with the Sorting Hat?"   
  
she demanded. "You in Slytherin, Granger in Gryffindor...."  
  
Harry just grinned.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Severus sank down into his chair, mentally evaluating the latest batch of   
  
first years. Malfoy showed a bit of talent, as did both Bulstrode and Granger.   
  
Potter would be adequate, he thought, but not as good as his mother had been.   
  
Harry just didn't have the same touch with potions as Evans had demonstrated.  
  
Sighing, Severus leaned back in his seat. He'd seen Potter helping out   
  
Longbottom and Finnigan, even if he'd pretended not to. Longbottom could have   
  
been seriously injured if he'd added the quills, but Potter had stopped him.  
  
Odd- James would never had bothered. Of course, James had always   
  
delighted in seeing other people screw up. Evans, now, would have done exactly   
  
the same thing as her son had done.  
  
Well. Perhaps the Boy Who Lived, wasn't hopeless after all.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Harry, Millicent, Blaise, and Theo waited at Hagrid's door, Harry having   
  
already knocked twice.  
  
The door opened and a large dog lunged out, only to be caught around the   
  
neck by the groundskeeper. Theo stumbled back, eyes wide.  
  
"Shuddup, Fang," Hagrid scolded the dog as it began to bark. "C'mon in-   
  
got some tea."  
  
Harry sank down into the single worn sofa, Millicent and Blaise flanking   
  
him. Theo, nose wrinkled, sat in a wooden chair.  
  
Hagrid bustled off to the tea kettle, which had begun to whistle   
  
piercingly. Harry glanced around, taking in the rather rustic place. He noticed   
  
a newspaper clipping on the small table before him, and, having never learned to   
  
mind his own business, picked it up.  
  
"Huh," Millicent grunted, looking at it over his shoulder. "I heard about   
  
that- the break-in was big news. No one's ever come so close to stealing   
  
something in Gringotts' history."  
  
"That was on my birthday," Harry said contemplatively.  
  
"'Ere, what're you all on about?" Hagrid demanded, returning with a tray   
  
of biscuits and tea. Harry eyed the biscuits doubtfully. They looked a   
  
bit...hard.  
  
"The Gringotts break-in," Millicent answered promptly.  
  
"Oh, that," Theo said, amused. "Mum and Dad panicked- our vault is number   
  
seven hundred and thirteen, right next to the vault that was emptied."  
  
For some reason, Hagrid looked rather shifty.  
  
"My mum said that whatever was in the vault was obviously valuable,"   
  
Blaise spoke up softly. "She said if it wasn't even safe at Gringotts, then it   
  
was probably taken either to the Ministry itself or to Hogwarts."  
  
Hagrid froze. "'Ere, now," he said brusquely, "Let's not talk about that   
  
now, eh? How was yer first day?"  
  
Harry's mind raced even as he entertained Hagrid with a tale about Charms.   
  
Hagrid's reactions, along with everything else...Harry was more than willing to   
  
bet that whatever had been taken was now at Hogwarts.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Harry stared mournfully down at his broom. He'd never had a chance to fly   
  
before, and was afraid he'd end up making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.  
  
"-the helicoperry, yes," Draco was saying, completely mangling the muggle   
  
term as he went on and on about his flying adventures. Millicent snorted.  
  
Madame Hooch was watching them all very carefully, waiting for everyone to   
  
arrive. Once they had, she ordered, "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Hurry up!"  
  
Harry, already in place, watched in amusement as the others scrambled to   
  
obey. Madame Hooch looked quite annoyed, and Harry was willing to bet she was   
  
missing something important to teach their class.  
  
"Now, everyone hold one hand out over their broom and say 'up'," she   
  
snapped.  
  
A ragged chorus of 'up's sounded; Harry's broom smacked right into his   
  
palm. Harry glanced around- only a couple of others had had any success.  
  
Hooch went on to show them how to hold and mount their brooms correctly,   
  
taking Malfoy to task somewhat severely, to Harry's delight.  
  
"When I blow my whistle, kick off from the ground, hard," she told them,   
  
hefting the silver whistle she'd spoken of. "Keep your brooms steady, and land by   
  
pointing your broom downward. On my whistle- one, two, three-"  
  
Longbottom was in the air, looking absolutely terrified.  
  
"Come back, boy!" Hooch shouted, but Longbottom was going straight up,   
  
quicker and quicker, his face white and eyes wide. And then he slipped...  
  
...crunch.  
  
Harry winced and Hooch looked pale. She knelt by the boy, frowning and   
  
looking him over. "Broken wrist. Everyone, stay put while I take him to the   
  
Hospital Wing. You go in the air and you'll be expelled, understood?"  
  
And with that, the woman levitated Longbottom away.  
  
Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face?" he crowed.  
  
Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Davis, and Greengrass sniggered as well. Harry   
  
and his friends remained silent, though Theo looked somewhat amused.  
  
"Shut up," a dark Gryffindor girl snapped.  
  
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy taunted. "Has *someone* got a   
  
crush?"  
  
"Look!" Malfoy interrupted, darting forward and picking up a clear glass   
  
ball. "It's Longbottom's little Remembrall!"  
  
Harry frowned. "Give it here, Malfoy," Weasley snapped, arms akimbo.  
  
"I think I'll leave it for Longbottom to find," Malfoy replied, sneering.   
  
"Maybe in a tree."  
  
"Give it to Weasley," Harry said quietly, glaring at Malfoy.  
  
"You too, Potter?" Malfoy drawled, eyes glittering malevolently. "First   
  
helping him out in Potions, and now this.... You really *are* a Gryffindork."  
  
"Mature, Malfoy, really," Harry replied dryly. "And I don't think it   
  
would be too wise of you to try leaving that in a tree. Didn't Hooch just say   
  
you've been flying *wrong* all these years? Wouldn't want you to get hurt."  
  
Malfoy went bright red. "I'll show you flying," he snarled, grabbing his   
  
broom and mounting. Harry stepped forward to grab the broom, but Malfoy pushed   
  
off and was in the air, grinning.  
  
He really could fly, Harry noted with a frown. "Come and get it, Potty!"   
  
Malfoy called from above.  
  
"You'll be expelled!" Granger cried as he grabbed his broom, seeing red.   
  
Harry ignored her, instead launching himself into the air.  
  
And it was freedom- all his troubles melting into the wind, all his   
  
worries left on the ground. He turned sharply on his broom to face Malfoy, who   
  
looked startled.  
  
"No Crabbe or Goyle up here, Malfoy," Harry said quietly.  
  
Malfoy scowled. "Fine- you want the damned thing so bad, go get it!" And   
  
then the blond wheeled around, rising into the air. The glass ball went flying.  
  
Swearing, Harry angled his broom and took off after it, going into a sharp   
  
dive. He distantly heard people cheering and taunting him, but ignored it. All   
  
that mattered was the wind and the glass orb.  
  
He was headed for the ground, his dive almost vertical. Three yards- two   
  
yards- three feet- two feet- and it was in his hand. He jerked his broom up and   
  
threw himself off, landing in the grass. He clambered easily to his feet.  
  
"MISTER POTTER!"  
  
His heart sank. He turned to see McGonagall advancing, white-faced and   
  
furious.  
  
Shoulders slumping, he let himself be seized by the shoulder. "Never in   
  
all my years- could have *died*," the woman sputtered. "Follow me!"  
  
Harry did, thoroughly chastened, pausing only to hand Granger the   
  
Remembrall. McGonagall watched the exchange through narrowed eyes, gaze darting   
  
to a smirking Draco Malfoy. Harry could almost see her mind working, putting the   
  
pieces together.  
  
And then she grabbed him again, pulling him off towards the castle.  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Harry's heart sank as they neared the dungeons.  
  
Snape looked up as they entered his office, his dark eyes glittering as he   
  
took in the sight of Harry with an angry McGonagall.  
  
"Is something wrong, Minerva?" Harry's teacher asked, leaning back in his   
  
seat.  
  
"I'm afraid so," McGonagall snapped. "Rolanda sent me out to supervise   
  
her flying class, as she had to take a student to see Poppy. I found young Mister   
  
Potter in the air, diving straight for the ground."  
  
"I see," Snape said neutrally. "Potter. What happened?"  
  
Harry hesitated, then sighed and told them the whole story, only leaving   
  
out Malfoy's name.  
  
"How far up was he when he dived?" Snape asked of an appeased McGonagall.  
  
The woman sighed, looking resigned. "Fifty feet or so. He caught the   
  
Remembrall two feet off the ground. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."  
  
Snape smiled for some reason, and Harry was put in mind of a predator.  
  
"I suppose I'd better forget about winning the Quidditch Cup this year,"   
  
McGonagall muttered. Harry looked at her blankly- what were they going on about?  
  
He'd heard of Charlie Weasley, of course. His father had been horrified   
  
when the Seeker declined the invitation to play for England, and instead went off   
  
chasing dragons. James had ranted about it for weeks.  
  
"So it seems," Snape said. "Potter. You have detention tonight, out on   
  
the Quidditch pitch."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. That was it? He looked to McGonagall, expecting her   
  
to protest, but she merely ruffled his hair and murmured, "Your parents would be   
  
proud, Harry." And then she was gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Review Replies-  
  
  
  
Guava-juice: Almost completely? Thanks!  
  
Kateri1: I'm glad you like.  
  
Aku Maru: Thanks!  
  
me: I agree- I love AUs, but so many are badly written. Hopefully this is a bit better.  
  
Amanda: Yes, the gun was a bit off...but hey, why not?  
  
MarsIsBrightTonight: Well, there isn't much they could do. People are naturally prejudiced against werewolves, and Peter seems so harmless that no one is going to believe he's guilty. Snape and Dumbledore (and Harry) are the only ones who think otherwise, and Snape's an ex-Death Eater and Harry's a kid. Dumbledore alone does have influence, but not enough to set free a werewolf suspected of treason.  
  
Rosey: Adorable? Erm...okay.... g Yes, I was trying to make it a bit original.  
  
asdf: Brilliant? Oh my...I'm not sure what to say. *blushes*  
  
Winnie2: Yes, I figure Lily would be the better role model- and also the one to wear the pants in the Potters' relationship.   
  
Jedi Buttercup: Yeah, I love Hagrid...he's such a big teddy. And many Dark!Harry fics are a bit, erm, lacking in thought. I mean, I can see Harry as being dark and Slytherin, but not evil. He'd still has that innate nobility of character, no matter where he went.  
  
Davita: Wow. I now have a review to read over and over on rainy days.  
  
Elessar: Why, thank you!  
  
Milenn Cassandra Riddle: Yes, yes, I pride myself on being brilliant. g  
  
Iliana: Yeah- I figure if the Dursleys didn't drive him into Slytherin in the books, they wouldn't be the real reason he'd go there in this fic. Plus, that's a rather over-used explanation.  
  
sab: I'm glad- I was a bit worried, I admit, as my spell-check is broken and I have no beta...so it's good to know I'm doing well.  
  
Ankalagon: Thanks! As for your 'mandates'- Harry will NOT get along with Draco. He will have nothing more than a teacher/student relationship with Snape- not father/son or anything else. Harry won't trust *anyone* blindly, especially not Dumbledore- in fact, I plan on having Harry throw a bit of a tantrum, blaming Dumbledore for Remus' imprisonment. And Harry will not be friends with Ron- at least not for a long, long, long while. They'll be nothing more than acquaintances. And Harry will eventually get into some political situations, though the fic won't be inundated with political intricacies.  
  
Diana Snape: Sorry- Draco's got to be an enemy for now. As for Ulysses- he was one of my favorite characters from Book One, and I always wanted to give him a name...so I did. 


	4. Chapter Three: The Slytherin Mud War

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. Darn.  
  
Author's Notes at the end- please read, as they explain some of the seemingly OOC behaviour of one or two characters. Review Responses are also at the end.  
  
  
  
Beta Search: I had a prospective beta, but my computer crashed and I can't find her e-mail. Please contact me, Lost Beta! I'm all alone....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter Three: The Slytherin Mud War  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
  
Harry slouched across the Hogwarts lawns, hands in his pockets. He felt   
  
rather like a scolded puppy- after all, he was about to attend a detention- in   
  
the first week of school!  
  
He'd wanted to keep as low a profile as possible, and that included   
  
staying out of trouble. Unfortunately, he had a Gryffindor's propensity for   
  
attracting impossible situations.  
  
The sky was just beginning to darken, the stars and moon obscured by   
  
low-hanging fluffy clouds. 'It'll rain tomorrow, I bet.'  
  
As he neared the Quidditch Pitch, he found himself wishing he'd never   
  
risen to Malfoy's bait. Not only had he gotten himself a detention and acted as   
  
stupidly as a Gryffindor, but now all the other first years were looking at him   
  
strangely. The Slytherins seemed annoyed and confused by his behavior- even   
  
Blaise and Theo. Millicent had just rolled her eyes, cuffed him about the head,   
  
and told him to *try* and restrain his heroic tendencies.  
  
The Ravenclaws didn't seem overly bothered by his behavior, but the   
  
Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had been gawking at him all day, even through dinner.   
  
It was irritating as all hells.  
  
Of course, a few of the Gryffindors claimed he was just showing off,   
  
until they learned that he'd never before been on a broom. In fact, the only   
  
Gryffindor who didn't seem mystified and alarmed by his actions was Granger.  
  
"Honestly," he'd heard her snap. "Slytherins aren't evil personified,   
  
you know. They can occasionally do something decent." He'd winced at the   
  
sarcasm and scorn practically dripping from her tone.  
  
'So much for a low profile.'  
  
Heaving a put-upon sigh, Harry trudged onto the Pitch itself, then froze.  
  
Why on earth was the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, along with   
  
Professor Snape, waiting for him?  
  
Swallowing- was Snape going to have them hit bludgers at him as   
  
punishment?- he straightened and walked forward like a man, determined to meet   
  
his doom head-on.  
  
"He's a scrawny little thing," one of the players commented loudly.  
  
Harry scowled. He'd always been lean, but his time with the Dursleys had   
  
made him positively...well, scrawny. And he was fairly certain that they'd   
  
stunted his growth through starvation. He'd been tall for his age before he   
  
was exiled to Privet Drive, and now he was one of the shorter first year boys.  
  
"Potter," Snape greeted him emotionlessly as Harry finally stopped   
  
walking. "We're going to be having a little contest."  
  
Blinking, Harry frowned. What on *earth* was going on?  
  
"You see," one of the largest boys said, "Higgs here is our Seeker, but   
  
he's only average when it comes to that position. If you're good enough, you'll   
  
be made Seeker, and Higgs will take the empty Chaser slot."  
  
Harry barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. "But first years-"  
  
"Normally aren't talented enough to fly unsupervised," the one named   
  
Higgs drawled. "If McGonagall isn't just having us on, then you're skilled   
  
enough to be on the team."  
  
"I've already spoken with the Headmaster," Snape cut in smoothly. "He is   
  
willing to make an exception for you."  
  
'Low profile indeed.'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
An hour later, Harry finally landed, slick with sweat and rain. The   
  
storm he'd earlier foreseen had arrived with a vengeance not a few moments   
  
before, putting an end to the 'contest'.  
  
It had been taxing, to say the least. First Flint, the captain, had   
  
ordered him to fly three laps about the stadium, as quickly as he could. Using a   
  
borrowed Comet 260, he'd gone through the laps at speeds the broom shouldn't have   
  
been able to reach. A few of the boys on the all-male Quidditch team had been   
  
bug-eyed with astonishment by the time he'd returned.  
  
"Good," Flint said, eyes gleaming. "Now let's see if you can catch."  
  
He'd released three Snitches into the air, and told Harry he'd have to   
  
catch them all within the next sixty minutes. "There's no distractions like   
  
bludgers or the like, so you should be able to= if you can catch at all," Flint   
  
had explained with an unpleasant sneer.  
  
Harry caught them all within twenty minutes.  
  
"Excellent," Flint said, the gleam in his eyes almost maniacal.   
  
"Beaters, in the air! We're going to see how you dodge, brat."  
  
A leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry reflected on his   
  
earlier suspicions- they really were going to be hitting bludgers at him.  
  
What followed was an aerial acrobatic display that Harry would later look   
  
back on with horror and disbelief. The bludgers came near to hitting him many   
  
times, but he somehow managed to avoid all but two of them. He'd even enacted a   
  
move that involved him sliding of his broom and hanging on to it with one hand,   
  
allowing the bludger to move safely over him.  
  
And then, mercifully, came the rain.  
  
"You're on the team," Flint shouted over the thunder and rain, even as he   
  
took back his broom. "Snape'll get you a broom. Practice in two days, five in   
  
the morning!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Soaking wet and cold as hell, Harry stumbled into the Slytherin Common   
  
Room. It was ten or so at night, so most of the house was gathered there,   
  
talking or reading or playing cards.  
  
There was a bit of a stir when Harry entered. Several older Slytherins   
  
snickered, and Malfoy looked nauseatingly smug.  
  
And he got no sympathy from his friends, either.  
  
"You look like a drowned rat," Millicent sniggered. Blaise looked highly   
  
amused. Theo was a different matter altogether.  
  
"You look utterly disgusting," the boy said disdainfully.  
  
"Thanks ever so," Harry said sourly. He shook himself, deliberately   
  
getting a good deal of mud on both Millicent and Theo. Only Blaise managed to   
  
escape, dodging back just in time.  
  
Now if only he could get some of the mess on Malfoy....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"So what did Snape make you do?" Blaise demanded about an hour later,   
  
once the Mud Wars were over. The four of them were lounging by the fire, almost   
  
alone in the common room. Only a few others remained, mostly seventh years who   
  
were frantically trying to finish their assigned work.  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
"Don't do that," Theo ordered before Harry could say a word.  
  
"What?" Harry demanded, startled.  
  
"Don't smile like that. What with your scar, it makes you look like some   
  
nightmare monster."  
  
"Shut up," Millicent told Theo shortly, slapping him on the back of his   
  
head. For some reason, Theo froze, eyes wide. Then the boy relaxed some,   
  
sneering at Millicent and Harry both.  
  
Harry frowned, filing away the reaction to study on a rainy- well,   
  
rainier- day.  
  
"So?" Blaise prompted.  
  
Harry leaned forward, beckoning them to come closer. They did, looking   
  
eager.  
  
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker."  
  
"What?!" Blaise screeched. The seventh years, engrossed in their work,   
  
started and threw him dirty glares. "But first years-"  
  
"Snape went to Dumbledore and had the rules bent," Harry said, smirking.  
  
"What about Higgs?" Blaise demanded, frowning.  
  
"He's been relocated to the open Chaser position," Harry replied. Higgs   
  
had, to his considerable relief, seemed rather happy about his new role. At   
  
least now he wouldn't have to watch out for a vengeful former Seeker.  
  
"McGonagall's gonna go spare," Theo said smugly.  
  
"Actually," Harry replied quietly, "She's the one who made it happen.   
  
She told Snape about the dive, and then said that she supposed she wouldn't be   
  
winning the Quidditch Cup with year. I didn't realize what she was talking about   
  
until I was on the team, though," he added sheepishly.  
  
"You," Blaise said with a roll of his eyes, "are unbelievably dense."  
  
Harry looked to Millicent for some help, but she merely nodded. "He's   
  
right, you know," she said with a slightly evil smile. "You've got a thicker   
  
skull than Goyle, and that's saying something."  
  
Harry settled back with an indignant snort, glaring. "Thanks a lot,   
  
Millicent. Really."  
  
She snickered. "Any time, Harry."  
  
"Oh," Blaise spoke up, looking strangely dreamy. "I can't *wait* to see   
  
Malfoy's face when this gets out."  
  
Harry's ire melted away like snow in South Africa.  
  
Now *that* would be something worth seeing, indeed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry was eating breakfast the next morning, noting how the Great Hall   
  
was almost abnormally quiet. Theo and Blaise flanked him, but Millicent was   
  
still in the common room, shunning breakfast.  
  
That quiet was broken by one Draco Malfoy.  
  
"So Potter," the blond boy sneered, coming up behind Harry and flanked by   
  
his two goons. "Where're your bags? When are you leaving?"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked with fake innocence.  
  
"Your expulsion," Malfoy said with badly hidden glee.  
  
"What expulsion?"  
  
Malfoy's smile faded slightly. "Isn't that your punishment?" he drawled,   
  
a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  
  
"Oh, no," Harry replied politely. "I was given a detention."  
  
Malfoy's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, before he flushed a   
  
furious red. "A detention? I suppose you bought McGonagall off?"  
  
"Not even Potter is that rich," Blaise said from Harry's side.  
  
Scowling, Malfoy strode away.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle remained.  
  
"He went that way," Harry pointed out helpfully.  
  
Goyle grunted and Crabbe blinked. "That way," Harry repeated slowly.   
  
"You're supposed to follow Malfoy. He's over there."  
  
Slowly, enlightenment dawned.  
  
"God help us all," Blaise sighed.  
  
"How the mighty have fallen," Theo agreed, glaring down his nose at the   
  
two gorillas as they slowly lumbered away. "How those two ever got into   
  
Slytherin...."  
  
"You never know," Harry said, straight-faced. "They might have hidden   
  
depths."  
  
"Yes, well preserved under the layers of fat," Theo said testily.  
  
"Actually, Goyle is a talented poet and Crabbe a gifted artist," Blaise   
  
spoke up.  
  
Harry and Theo stared.  
  
"You must be joking," Harry said, his disbelief evident.  
  
Blaise's composure melted away, and the Italian boy collapsed into   
  
giggles.  
  
"Goyle as the strong, sensitive type," Harry murmured. "That's   
  
just...wrong. On so, so, so, so, *so* many levels."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Barely five minutes had passed before the next commotion- the owls   
  
arriving with the mail. Harry spotted Hedwig heading towards him, a long, thin   
  
package clutched in her talons.  
  
//The featherbrain approaches,// Neasa hissed. Harry shook his head-   
  
how his snake friends managed to keep track of Hedwig, he'd never know.  
  
//Can we eat her?// Ulysses piped in. //Remain silent if your answer is   
  
'yes'.//  
  
Harry rolled his eyes- Ulysses knew very well that Harry couldn't respond   
  
in a hall full of people.  
  
Hedwig, somehow divining what was going on, dropped the package on the   
  
table and continued on, not bothering to pause. Survival instincts apparently   
  
ran strong in snowy owls.  
  
Harry ran his hand along the package, frowning when he saw a letter   
  
attacked to the brown paper. Ignoring the stares he was getting, Harry ripped   
  
open the letter- and was glad he did.  
  
'Potter- don't open this at the table or I'll force-feed you to Sprout's   
  
Giant Venus Flytraps. Your position on the team is to remain a secret so, if   
  
it's possible, I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut. -SS'  
  
Harry glanced up at the Head Table, and saw three teachers watching him-   
  
Dumbledore with amusement, McGonagall with resignation, and Snape with a warning   
  
in his eyes.  
  
Gulping, Harry turned to his friends and showed them the letter.  
  
"Well, let's go then," Blaise said impatiently.  
  
Harry glanced down at his half-eaten breakfast, then shrugged. Quidditch   
  
came first.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Malfoy, of course, accosted them on their way to the Slytherin dungeons.  
  
"What've you got there, Potter?" he demanded, having Goyle and Crabbe   
  
block the passage.  
  
"None of your business, Malfoy," Harry said shortly.  
  
"Oh, but it is, if it means Slytherin might lose points," Draco argued   
  
with a smile. And then, before Harry could blink, the blond had grabbed the   
  
package from his hands.  
  
"A broom, Potter?" Draco crowed. "Oh, you're in for it this time!"  
  
"What's going on here?"  
  
All six of the boys froze and turned to face McGonagall. Harry might   
  
have been imagining it, but he thought he saw her eyes narrow in distaste when   
  
she looked at Malfoy.  
  
"Potter's got a broom!" Malfoy said, hefting the package.  
  
"Oh, yes," McGonagall said, and Harry was sure he detected a note of   
  
amusement in her voice as she put Malfoy in his place. "Professor Snape and   
  
Headmaster Dumbledore told me all about the special circumstances, Potter," she   
  
said. Draco's smile disappeared.  
  
"Special circumstances?" he demanded rather rudely.  
  
McGonagall's lips thinned very slightly. "Oh yes- Mister Potter is,   
  
after all, the Slytherin Seeker."  
  
Harry couldn't help but grin widely at Malfoy's expression, though Theo   
  
made a show of gagging and muttering "nightmare face."  
  
"And it's all thanks to you, Malfoy," Harry said jovially.  
  
He was certain he saw McGonagall bite back a smile.  
  
Malfoy reddened and stomped away. This time, his goons got the message   
  
and followed.  
  
"Be on your way now," McGonagall ordered them. Harry nodded and turned   
  
to go, just barely catching, out of the corner of his eye, McGonagall's wink.  
  
Well. Take *that*, Malfoy!  
  
He froze. Blaise and Theo stared at him curiously.  
  
Oh no. Malfoy knows....  
  
"Snape's gonna kill me," Harry groaned.  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Review! Review! Review! Review!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Author's Notes: McGonagall is a little OOC, yes, but I have an explanation. I've always thought she was so stiff with her own house because she was their Head, and was leery of showing favoritism of any sort. Harry's in Slytherin, so that wouldn't be a factor here. Also, McGonagall has always been fond of Harry, even in the books.  
  
As for the Slytherins: I'm what people tend to call a 'realist'. Which means that I do NOT believe that Slytherins are all honorable, chivalrous, soft, and cuddly under their crusty exteriors. Neither do I think they are evil personified. They are merely a group of ambitious, driven children- which means that, while there will be friendships between them, there will also be enmity. I'm not going to be turning Flint into a charismatic leader; nor will Draco shed his spoiled act to show that he is, in fact, a horribly abused little boy. Draco Malfoy is SPOILED ROTTEN. Flint is a complete arse. That's just how they are, people.  
  
This was one of the lighter chapters- chances are things will get darker. And no, this will not be parallel to the books. Harry will be involved with the whole Philosopher's Stone ordeal, but that's about all the similarity you'll find after this chapter. From this poiht on, you'll recognize only a few elements of the first book, the ones that I couldn't leave out.  
  
  
  
REVIEW RESPONSES-  
  
Jedi Buttercup: Yeah, I liked the hat line too...I've always been a fan of sarcasm. Glad you liked McGonagall; as for the non-spotlight Slytherins, there'll be a lot more of them. I've been told I have a knack for writing characters who're underdeveloped in canon- I plan to put that knack to good use.  
  
knot2be: Love the pen-name. : ) And will do.  
  
atalante: I'm glad you like it- hopefully the rest will be as good as the beginning.  
  
LoOkItZBaNaNaGrL: Whew. Interesting pen-name. Glad you like my little Slyth!Harry. Is squirming a good thing?  
  
Mrs. Tom Riddle: Ooh, depth. Depth is a good thing. And here's the next chapter- enjoy!  
  
Earl: Glad you like everything so far. As for a Harry/Ron friendship, I said it was a possibility, but that it wouldn't happen for some time, if it ever happened at all. And truth be told, I'm not overly keen on using many of the spotlight characters from the canon in this.  
  
Kaliqua Potter: Wow. Great review- the kind of review I'll be reading over and over to build up my already considerable ego. ;) Glad you like!  
  
Diana Snape: Yay! You like Millicent! One of my pet peeves is when an author gives Slytherin!Harry a female friend, and then makes her into a carbon copy of Hermione or makes her into a future love interest. And I'm glad you like McGonagall- I was actually never very enthusiastic about her character until the fifth book came out. She won me over first with the "biscuit" line, and then with her little blow-up at Umbridge- and a third time when she tried to help Hagrid escape. And as I stated above, this won't be a replica at all- at least not after this chapter.  
  
valanthe: Since you asked nicely....  
  
DarkQueenD: Your wish is my command. bows  
  
kitiara_uth_matar: I'm glad you weren't driven away by Draco's position as Harry's enemy. I don't think they'll ever be friends, at least not in this fic, but...I'm considering making Draco an ally much, much, much later on.  
  
Winnie2: First week, actually. : ) And yes, Harry does seem to lead an interesting life. He can't help it, the poor dear.  
  
Samara-chan: As for the longer scar- I wanted to have a physical distinction from Canon!Harry, to symbolize Harry's darker nature. Plus, I just like the idea of Harry with that great honking scar. And I seem to be getting a lot of 'wow's- which is surprising, as I was hesitant about posting this fic. I didn't think it was all that good.  
  
Anora: I'm glad you like! I'm trying to make Harry's personality as realistic as possible- he won't be an adult in a kid's body; nor will he have any astounding political savvy. Harry's kind of a action-first kid- plans are made in hindsight. ; )  
  
Kateri1: Why, thank you! I actually disliked the flying scene myself, but was too annoyed to rewrite it. In fact, I didn't like chapter three at all, save for the first confrontation between Draco and Harry. 


	5. Chapter Four: The Trouble With Trolls

Woo-hoo! The next chapter, all written. Finally.  
  
Many thanks to Sabriel, my beta. Yes, I have a beta. Sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it? Oh well.  
  
No, I don't own Harry Potter. Unfortunately. If I did, do you really think I'd be sitting around on my bum, writing crappy fanfic?  
  
Cheers!  
  
THE TROUBLE WITH TROLLS  
  
Before Harry knew it, Halloween had arrived. He would have skipped the Feast- he wasn't overly fond of large crowds, and he had a bad feeling about dinner that night- but Millicent told him she'd rearrange his face if he didn't stop being such a wuss.  
  
He was grimly satisfied, then, when Quirrell burst into the room, screeching about a troll in the dungeons.  
  
Not ten feet away, he heard a couple of Gryffindor girls muttering about one of their dorm-mates being in the girls' bathroom. He paused, and then shrugged. The bathrooms near Gryffindor Tower were probably safe - after all, the troll was in the dungeons, nowhere near the common facilities.  
  
So, smugly telling Millicent that he'd been right all along about Halloween, he went back to the dorm and spent the next few hours playing Exploding Snap with Millicent and Blaise, while Theo looked on and commented in his normal scathing tone.  
  
The first thing Harry noticed at breakfast the next morning was that Gryffindor had lost over fifty points. The second thing was that the youngest Weasley was being shunned by everyone at his table.  
  
Odd....  
  
He ate slowly, mind racing. Had Weasley tried to go off and confront the troll? The redhead didn't strike him as the type to do so, not on his own.  
  
The mystery was cleared soon after he finished eating. Headmaster Dumbledore stood, his eyes unusually grave.  
  
"Silence, please," the elderly man called, immediately putting a halt to all conversations. "As you all know, a troll somehow managed to enter the castle last night. Before it was neutralized, it badly injured a Gryffindor first-year, Hermione Granger. She was in one of the girls' bathrooms, recovering from an earlier altercation with a classmate."  
  
Harry's eyes flicked to Weasley - the boy was scowling, shamefaced and angry.  
  
"The troll completely shattered her right leg, and it is doubtful she will ever again be able to walk without a cane. I ask that you do your best to help her accustom herself to her new limitations."  
  
Harry sat back, eyes squeezed shut. He should have gone. It should have been him, not her.  
  
"Due to this tragedy, the Quidditch matches will be pushed back by a week, to allow us some time to recover. Thank you."  
  
Slowly, conversation built back up, most people talking about Granger. Further down the table, Harry heard Malfoy laughing; his fists clenched automatically at the sound.  
  
"- mudblood got what she deserved," he heard the blond boy drawl.  
  
Harry stood, shaking with fury, wand in hand. The hall went silent, gaping at the sight.  
  
"Want to say that again?" he snarled. Malfoy paled- Harry knew he looked frightening, his scar adding to the effect.  
  
"Mister Potter!" Snape snapped, standing. "Put your wand away right now!"  
  
Harry hesitated for a long moment, gaze fixed on Malfoy. And then he lowered his wand, and everyone seemed to exhale in relief.  
  
"You ever say that word again in my presence," Harry said quietly, his voice nonetheless carrying throughout the hall, "and I'll make you sorry you were ever born, you pathetic Death Eater spawn."  
  
He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving the entire hall in stunned silence.  
  
Yeah. So much for not standing out.  
  
Harry didn't go back to the common room- he didn't feel like talking with anyone there. So he wandered, and a good while later, found himself outside the infirmary.  
  
For a long moment, he merely stared at his surroundings. Then, gathering all his vaunted Potter courage, he opened the door.  
  
It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Time to face yet another failure....  
  
Pomfrey was there, of course. She wheeled around, ready to chew out whoever was disturbing the peace of her domain, when she realized who it was.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey," Harry said politely. "Could I visit briefly with Miss Granger?"  
  
Looking somewhat startled by his request, as well as his painfully polite behavior, the nurse hesitated. Finally, she heaved a heavy sigh and nodded. "She's just woken. Anyone else I wouldn't let in.... Upset her and I'll have you out of here in record time."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Well then," the nurse said, "This way."  
  
Harry entered the small private room silently, closing the door behind him. He saw, with a jolt, that it was the same room he'd recovered in after his parents died.  
  
Granger was propped by some pillows, her hands resting in her lap. She was staring fixedly down at them, not reacting at all to his entrance.  
  
"Hello," Harry said quietly, standing by the door.  
  
"What do you want?" Her voice was thick with unshed tears and anger. She finally looked up, and blinked when she saw who it was.  
  
"This is the room I was in," Harry said, his tone still soft. "After I got this scar." He didn't bother gesturing to his face- the scar was quite evident without him pointing it out.  
  
"So?" Her voice was deliberately rude.  
  
Harry sighed. "It's not all that bad," he told her, frowning. "There are advances made in medimagic every day, and you haven't even considered muggle methods yet."  
  
She snorted. "They've already told me that I'll need a cane for the rest of my life."  
  
"You might," Harry agreed. "And you might not. Even if you do need a cane, you can still live a good life. You're the smartest witch in our year, possibly in the school. You could easily get a high position at the Ministry."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm supposed to settle for this?" she demanded, sounding fierce. "I was hoping so much that the magical world would be different...but it's just the same. What's the point in staying?"  
  
Harry met her angry gaze calmly, noting the trembling of her hands. "So that's it, then?" he asked quietly. "You'll just give up, prove Malfoy right?"  
  
The girl hesitated, a frown settling on her face. "Malfoy? What's he got to do with anything?"  
  
And so Harry related Malfoy's words to the girl, watching in satisfaction as her jaw tensed and her eyes hardened.  
  
"I'll show him," she snapped when he'd finished. "He won't know what hit him." Then, for a long moment, Hermione examined Harry closely. Harry found himself fidgeting slightly under the scrutiny, not at all used to having people look further than the scar.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Why bother trying to get me to stay?"  
  
Harry almost lied, but something in her tone prompted honesty.  
  
"Because I know what it's like to feel that nothing will ever be right again," he said slowly. "And I know what it feels like to be set apart."  
  
She smiled then, for the first time since he'd met her. Her smile softened her strict features, giving her an almost maternal look.  
  
"Will you visit again?" he heard her ask. To his shock, she actually sounded hopeful. He blinked.  
  
"Yeah," he finally agreed, still quite surprised. "If you want, I'll bring you your homework every day."  
  
Her smile widened. "That would be wonderful, Ha- Po-"  
  
"Harry," he supplied quickly. "And it might be best if we kept our, ah, association quiet."  
  
He almost smiled at the way her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. Seeing a bit of hurt in her gaze, he hastened to explain.  
  
"The other Gryffindors wouldn't be too happy if you started hanging around with Slytherins," he pointed out. "And, considering your muggleborn status, being known as my friend could prove very dangerous to you."  
  
Her expression of hurt had been replaced with thoughtfulness. "All right then, Harry," she said, after thinking things through. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Harry left then, his guilt returning tenfold. He wondered if she'd have been so quick to befriend him if she knew her injury was his fault.  
  
Hermione frowned at her Charms text, brow furrowed. "This doesn't make any sense," she complained, glowering. She'd been in the infirmary for three days now, and wasn't at all pleased with her progress.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, seated next to her on the infirmary bed. Hermione's lame leg was extended, though so thoroughly wrapped and bandaged that Harry hadn't a clue how bad the injury looked.  
  
"The lighting charm," she said sullenly. "It makes no sense. Why a counterclockwise flick? It goes against-"  
  
"No, no," Harry interrupted, reaching over Hermione's shoulder to point to a line in the text. "Counterclockwise makes sense, because this particular charm doesn't create light, but merely draws from preexisting light sources to fulfill its purpose."  
  
"Oh, I see," she said with a triumphant smile, which soon faded. "They could have made that clear," she added, disgruntled.   
  
Harry shrugged. "Flitwick told us. Apparently the text isn't too good on the 'how's and 'why's."  
  
The two of them studied surprisingly well together. Hermione was obviously the more studios of the two, but Harry had a way of looking at things sideways, and was prone to almost brilliant leaps of intuition at times.  
  
Thus far, only Pomfrey knew of Harry's regular visits to the infirmary. The nurse thought it all very sweet, and left the two to their own devices. Pomfrey was also convinced that Harry had a bit of a crush on the bushy-haired Gryffindor.  
  
Truth be told, Harry saw Hermione merely as a friend. She seemed, to him, more a sister or confidant.  
  
Besides, he was eleven. He'd only just grown out of the 'eew, girl cooties' stage.  
  
Harry stared at his breakfast, making no move to eat. In fact, he felt rather ill.  
  
"What's with him?" he heard Blaise ask.  
  
Millicent sniggered to his right. "He's nervous," she said, her tone distinctly mocking. Harry barely heard her.  
  
His first game. Merlin help him....  
  
"Wait," Blaise said, sounding disbelieving. "The kid who takes down the Dark Lord with a gun stolen from his mother...is scared of a game?"  
  
"But what if I lose?" Harry asked, his stomach roiling. "Flint'll kill me! And even worse, Malfoy will be jumping with joy."  
  
"Someone has their priorities mixed up," Blaise murmured, lips twitching.  
  
"Bugger off," Harry snapped, burying his head in his arms.  
  
"What's with him?" Theo demanded, sauntering over.  
  
Harry groaned.  
  
Ulysses, hidden in Harry's sleeve, sniggered heartily.  
  
They were in the locker room, preparing for the upcoming game. Harry, who was already dressed and ready, was receiving his pep-talk from Flint.  
  
"Catch it or I'll skin you alive," the older boy threatened, yellowed teeth bared.  
  
Harry nodded, gulping.  
  
This was a bad, bad idea. Really, what had Snape been thinking? He was going to make a total fool out of himself. He'd probably end up falling off his broom, and Malfoy would be sniggering even as Harry-  
  
"Snap out of it."  
  
Harry blinked, glancing up at Higgs. The chaser looked almost...kindly. Well, actually Higgs looked a bit constipated, but he normally did anyway.  
  
"You'll do fine, kid," Higgs continued reassuringly. And then, teeth bared in what could possibly be construed as a smile, the ex-Seeker continued, "And if you don't, you won't live long enough to regret it."  
  
Shit. He was so, so dead.  
  
Harry was bored. The match was turning into a joke- while the Gryffindor's team was pretty good; the Slytherins equaled them in skill. And frankly, the Gryffindor seeker was a disgrace.  
  
Actually, the third year wasn't all that bad, but she was far too cautious and had little in the way of speed. She'd be much better as a beater or keeper.  
  
Surprisingly, the Gryffindor beaters- the Weasley twins- had greeted him amiably. Right before they sent a bludger at him, but it's the thought that counts.  
  
Sighing, Harry decided to liven things up a bit. He was well versed in Quidditch, having been raised by James Potter, and so he knew most of the moves.  
  
Turning quite suddenly, as if he'd caught sight of the snitch out of the corner of his eye, he went into a completely vertical dive.  
  
It was glorious- the wind stinging his eyes, the ground rushing to meet him, the other seeker following him frantically.  
  
"Potter goes into a magnificent dive- must have seen the snitch! Stibbons follows- go on, Patty!"  
  
"JORDAN!"  
  
Teeth bared, Harry accelerated, heading straight down at impossible speeds. People were screaming, and Lee Jordan was shouting. Harry saw Stibbons out of the corner of his eye, not two feet behind.  
  
Nearly there....  
  
Time seemed to slow. Harry's heart skipped a beat as the ground neared, two yards away...now only a few feet...now!  
  
With only inches to spare, Harry jerked his broom upwards, pulling out of the dive a split second before he would have crashed. Stibbons hit the ground with a sickening crunch.  
  
"Holy fu-"  
  
"Jordan!"  
  
"Sorry, sorry.... Potter pulls of a flawless Wronski Feint- shouldn't be possible...Stibbons is out of commission; reserve seeker Flaherty is being sent in- amazing, simply amazing, a complete shame Potter's a Slytherin...."  
  
Harry barely heard, smiling as he soared upwards. This was wonderful! It was beautiful...it was freedom-  
  
His broom lurched. Harry froze, his heart in his throat. He tried to go lower....  
  
But he was no longer in control. The broom lurched again, and then twisted violently to the side, unbalancing its rider.  
  
Harry screamed as he fell...then he jerked to stop, somehow having been able to grip the handle of his broom. The Nimbus continued to swoop and soar, turning tight corners in an attempt to shake Harry off.  
  
"What the hell?!"  
  
"Jordan!"  
  
Harry yelped as the broom shuddered again, even as it twisted down and to the right, straight towards one of the goal posts. His fingers ached, and his arms were burning. He vaguely made out the game far below, the Gryffindors staring up at him while the Slytherins scored again and again, taking advantage of Harry's predicament.  
  
Slowly, agonizingly, Harry tried to pull himself back on his broom. But the Nimbus shook again, and Harry's grip was loosened.  
  
"-seems Potter's broom is out of control! Should be impossible, but it's clear that something else is in charge-"  
  
All of a sudden, the broom ground to a halt. For a fraction of a second, it merely hung there in the air, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
And then broom and boy plummeted towards the earth.  
  
I'm evil, yes I am.  
  
Review Responses-  
  
Restricted4u: Oooh, I'm glad you like the animals! They're my favorite characters, I think.  
  
LoOkItZBaNaNaGrL: Hmph. Took me about ten minutes to type your penname correctly. Grr. On the other hand...glad to hear you like my fic. Sorry about the wait, but life is, unfortunately, hectic.  
  
Beth: Wow. Thanks. I don't know what to say.... You love me, you really really love me. Or my fic. Sniff.  
  
Jedi Buttercup: Snicker. Great penname. "Just no avoiding some things where Malfoys are concerned"- wonderful comment. I might 'borrow' it at some point.  
  
Lady Ana Maria Lorinan: Well, shucks. blushes  
  
SheWolfe7: Humanistic? I dunno...I pride myself on seeing the worst in people.  
  
John Surber: Yup, here's the Quidditch match. Or part of it, anyway. And I'm really glad people seem to like the snakes and Hedwig; I just adore Ulysses.  
  
Samara-chan: Ah yes, the nightmare face comment. And the parallels should end pretty soon.  
  
Diana Snape: Yeah, the whole Intelligent!Crabbe or Intelligent!Goyle always ticks me off, unless done for humor reasons. I mean, if they were that smart they'd hardly go about eating floating cupcakes and getting themselves drugged.  
  
GY: Theo's gonna have an interesting path ahead of him. And Millicent's gonna be quite important to the entire story.  
  
Saetan: Sorry about the lack of timely updates...I'll try to do better. Sigh.  
  
kitiarauthmatar: Nah, Harry's good at worming his way out of trouble.  
  
Anora: So you picked up on the Theo thing, eh? Theo's gonna have a few interesting choices to make in the upcoming chapters- and he's not always going to make the right decisions, either. He and Harry will come to an understanding of sorts, yes, but that's a long way away.  
  
Kateri1: Why, thanks! 


	6. Chapter Five: Er, Sorry?

I HAVE AN EXCUSE! DON'T KILL ME!

Er. Right.

My excuse? It's a funny thing... I was walking home one night, when that evil villain Life came and clobbered me.

In other words: my computer broke down completely, I lost the floppies with my stories on and only just found them again...and Lucifer wasn't on any of them, so I had to start from scratch. My dad refused to buy me a new computer until he found a really good sale on one I liked (and no, I'm not completely spoiled; I paid for half of it, and the rest takes care of my Christmas gift for this year). And then I started school...at a new high school, where I'm all alone. I'm the pathetic kid who goes to the library rather than eat lunch, because I HAVE NO FRIENDS! I HATE IT! AARRGH!

Well. At least I can get in touch with friends from my old school...but do you have any idea how incredibly frustrating-

Wait a moment. I just remembered that I'm, you know, not supposed to rant at my helpless, beloved readers. Right then. On with the story.

By the way, this is appallingly short. But hopefully it will tide you over until I can get a real chapter out.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_All of a sudden, the broom ground to a halt. For a fraction of a second, it merely hung there in the air, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
And then broom and boy plummeted towards the earth.  
_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry's life didn't flash before his eyes. No, his eyes were tightly shut, as if by blindness he could ward off certain death. He could feel the wind rushing past him, stinging his skin and prying at his clothes.

His teeth grinding together, his hands clenched on the handle of his broom, he waited for the inevitable.

Only the inevitable never came. So unless his life was suddenly going in slow motion...

Slowly, cautiously, he opened one eye, and then the other. He was hanging a foot above the ground, his broom as docile as a day-old puppy. The stands were completely silent, everyone staring wide-eyed at him.

Except for the Slytherin Chasers, of course, who weren't about to let a little thing like a teammate's bloody death stop them from scoring.

He breathed slowly in and out, blinking. And then...

There, in the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of gold.

Well, he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. He'd win this if it killed him.

A hard, tight smile curled his lips, and he swung back up onto his broom in an easy, fluid movement that left his opponents gaping in startlement.

And then he was off.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"You caught it! You got the snitch!" They were in a corner of the crowded Common Room, ignoring the revelers.

Millicent rolled her eyes, sneering at Theo and Blaise. "I'm a bit more concerned with his broom going wacko, myself," she said dryly.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it was hexed."

"It takes really strong dark magic to hex a broom, though," Blaise pointed out.

Theo didn't quite snort, but his disdain was evident. "Yes, and I'm sure there's no one in the world who would use dark magic to kill Harry Potter."

Blaise scowled. Millicent looked thoughtful.

"I just want to know why I'm not dead," Harry said. They stared at him, and he blushed. "Er, not that I'm complaining or anything."

"I think I know," Millicent murmured, glancing around to make sure no one was in position to overhear their conversation. "I was looking at the teachers, and Snape and Quirrell were staring right at you the whole time, and muttering. When you stopped, Snape relaxed and Quirrell looked like he'd been slapped really hard, or something." Her rather large nose was scrunched up as she related her tale, an indication of how very seriously she was taking the attempted murder.

"Don't be ridiculous," Theo said scathingly, while Harry frowned and pondered Millie's words. "Quirrell? P-poor s-stuttering Quirrell? He couldn't hurt a fly, unless he fainted on it and squashed it to death."

Blaise, Millie, and Harry ignored him. "What does he stand to gain, though, from killing you?" Blaise wondered quietly. "He's too young to have been a D-" He stopped, going silent as Sally-Ann Perks wandered a bit too close. The four first years stared silently at their classmate until she scowled and went away.

Harry frowned deeply. Perks had an irritating habit of fading into the shadows completely. He wasn't sure, yet, whose side she was on- his or Draco's.

And then he paused, concerned. Sides? Yes, Slytherin had been divided into sides, and Harry suddenly found that very troubling indeed. Because...if Harry and his friends were 'good', then the rest were automatically 'bad'. He might as well be driving them straight into Voldemort's ranks.

But he hadn't a clue what to do about it,

"Harry? What, did someone petrify you on the sly?" Blaise asked, amused. Harry started and smiled sheepishly, prompting an exaggerated shudder from Theo.

"Bloody ponce," Millie said, cuffing Theo on the shoulder. The boy tensed up at the contact, though whether in anger or some other emotion Harry couldn't say.

He sighed. Nothing ever came simple, did it?

Sometimes, it was hell being the bloody Boy Who Lived.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Severus stalked like murder through his dungeons, his eyes cold and angry. More so than usual, that is.

Quirrell. Quirrell had tried to harm one of Severus' Slytherins. Moreover, he'd tried to kill Harry Potter, one of the few students that the Potions Master had ever (however grudgingly) respected.

Damn Albus to the deepest pits of hell. The Headmaster had listened to Severus' warnings, then smiled and said, "I'm sure everything will work out as it's meant to, my boy."

Hah. Bloody stupid reckless irritating-

"Oof!"

Severus blinked, then stared at the first year he'd knocked over. Granger. What was Granger doing in the dungeon?

His sneer, which appeared automatically in the presence of Gryffindors, faded slightly. Her face was screwed up in pain, and her crutches had fallen to either side. He wordlessly gathered the two walking aids, then helped the girl up.

"Thanks," she wheezed, sniffing. Her hair was in complete disarray, and her eyes were red-rimmed.

"What," he asked sharply, "are you doing down here after curfew, Miss Granger?"

She swallowed and backed up a pace, her crutches thumping dully against the stone floor. "I..." She sucked in a quick breath and straightened. "I wanted to talk with you, Professor."

His brow furrowed ominously. "Talk."

The girl shook her head quickly, her hair flying about her face. "It's about the match, sir."

Damn. Had she noticed anything? If she'd seen Quirrell and himself... He might have to Obliviate her, to keep her from blabbing to her classmates.

But then again, she'd come to him rather than spreading rumors and speculation.

"Very well," he agreed, eyes narrowed. "Follow me."

And because he was, after all, a bastard, he strode to his office just a little too quickly for her, on her crutches, to keep up.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Review Responses:

Itty bitty evil ringy of doom: Great name. And spiffy is possibly the greatest word EVER.

Anora: Well, Harry always has been a bit dense. But then, he's a boy. squeaks and ducks vegetables thrown by male readers 

SheWolfe7: Evil? Yes, yes it is. Oy, crash? That's a bit harsh!

Kateri1: Wicked? Evil? What am I, the antichrist? g 

rayvern: Thanks! And I'm afraid it took me rather longer than it should have... Oh well.

starangel2106: Yes, the first chapter really is better than the rest. And I'm glad to hear you like it.

Demon's Soul of Baer: Sad? Hmm...it's still relatively light-hearted, at the moment.

xikum: Fun and interesting? Yay!

Nemati: Now, now. No need to grumble. Erm.

chiemi: Why, thanks!

Vhailder: We're getting away from cannon, now. And yeah, I wanted to give him some different friends, this time around. Though Hermione's gonna be getting in there, a bit.

Sky Samuelle: Ooh, aren't they loverly?

HecateDeMort: Thanks!

Erisinia: Holy cabooses? Squeak? Wow, you love me. You really love me. g And I adore Millicent.

A Person: Yup, I knew. I couldn't come up with a title like that on my own, darlin'.

SodaPop33: Thanks!

GShans: Actually, I spent a lot of time thinking about how severe her injury was. I suppose I didn't explain it very clearly, though. The troll completely smashed her leg- not just the bone, but muscle and skin too. And magic can't heal everything- Moody has a pegleg, after all, and McGonagall's using a cane after the attack on Hagrid. I also have a few theories about magical healing that'll come up later on, though, that will explain why Pomfrey couldn't just heal Hermione's leg. Anyway, sorry about the formatting (it irritates me as much as it does you), and I'm glad you like me story!

SlythsRule: Why, shucks!

momma-dar: Wow, a patient reviewer. Isn't that oxymoronic, in some way?

Belletrixie: YES! I DID! BUAHAHAHAHAHA!

t.a.g.0: Er. Whoops. I tried to bring her in, here.

Tonnocal: Whoa. You're seriously scaring me, woman/man (circle correct answer).

spectra2: Tank u!

monica: I'll get some action in next chapter.

Loony Lisa Lovegood: Last but not least, eh? How could I? Easy- cause I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! BOW BEFORE ME! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Damn, I love a good evil laugh.


	7. Chapter Six: Dire Secrets, Sort of

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing, I tell you!

And I have no excuses. Blush.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Once they got to Snape's office, he took the seat behind his desk and Hermione collapsed gratefully into an upholstered armchair. His office was dank and dark, likely more for effect than because the man enjoyed living like a vampire.

Snape stared at Hermione. Hermione stared right back, until she realized her professor was trying to intimidate her into saying something stupid or thoughtless, possibly so he could take points. Honestly, how childish could a grown man get?

"Quirrell hexed Harry's broom," she finally said, mentally rolling her eyes when she saw a flash of satisfaction on her teacher's face- that she'd broken first, she supposed. Really, Slytherins. She just didn't know what to do with any of them.

"So certain it was Quirrell, Miss Granger?" he drawled. And what was it with Slytherins and drawling, anyway? And stalking and sneering and smirking? How come Gryffindors had no reserved facial expressions (other than defiant righteousness, which amounted to foolishness in Hermione Jane Granger's extensive and grammatically correct book)?

"Quite," she bit out, before adding a quick, "sir." She didn't need to be losing Gryffindor points; she didn't want her housemates to pity her _and_ be angry at her.

"And why, Miss Granger, do you care about a Slytherin's well-being?" He sounded honestly curious, now, though he hid it under disdain and irritation.

Why couldn't people just come out and say what they meant?

"Harry's decent," she said, head held high. "He leaves us alone, and he's helped Neville once or twice. And he volunteered to bring me my homework when I was still in the infirmary."

Professor Snape sneered, ever so predictably. "Ah yes, homework. That certainly explains why _you_ like him, Miss Granger."

Really, he was as bad as Ron.

"Besides," she said, keeping her tone as civil as possible, "I'd do the same for any fellow student. This isn't something to take lightly."

The greasy man studied her at length, before nodding very slightly. "You are correct, Miss Granger; unsurprising, considering your status as the Hogwarts know-it-all."

Hermione wondered what he'd do if she burst into tears- not that she was about to, of course. Would he smirk- another expression reserved for Slytherins- or be taken aback and concerned? Somehow she couldn't picture the man patting her shoulder and saying, "There, there."

Ron, for once in his pathetic life, was right. Severus Snape truly was a git.

"Well?" she demanded, before again hurriedly remembering to tack on a slightly less than respectful 'sir'.

"Well what, girl?" Snape snapped.

"What are you going to do about it?" she demanded, leaning forward in her seat. She couldn't suppress a slight wince as her hip twinged in protest.

Snape, of course, saw the wince. To her surprise, Hermione saw his eyes go a bit soft for a split second. "You might be interested to know, Miss Granger," he said in the stiffly formal way he employed whenever he wasn't being a bastard, "that I am currently developing a potion that may help with your leg."

She gaped at him, noting the abrupt change of subject but not caring, at least for now, that he'd gotten out of telling her what she wanted to know. "But Madam Pomfrey said nothing more could be done!"

"Madam Pomfrey employed all the usual healing methods, Miss Granger, methods that drew on your power for healing. Yes, there was only so much she could do without draining your life force away to nothing or risk crippling you entirely. But the brew I have been developing over the past several months is one that is imbued with its own energy, so the drinker's own magic is unaffected."

Her jaw dropped. "But a healing potion like that...it'd be revolutionary!"

"There is a reason I'm a Potions Master, girl," Snape said scathingly. Hermione blushed at the reprimand.

But she was too intelligent and tenacious to be led off track for long. "What will you do about Harry?"

Snape looked extremely irritated at her persistance, but answered her anyway. "Nothing, for the time being. We have no proof of Quirrell's hand in the incident, so we must wait until he slips up somewhere. In the meantime, I will guard Potter as well as I can, and you, Miss Granger, will for once keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?"

"But shouldn't Harry know?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"If Potter doesn't know already," Snape replied dryly, "then I have severely overestimated him. But I will speak with him, yes."

Hermione nodded, satisfied. "That's all then, sir," she said, levering herself up out of the armchair and grabbing her crutches, which she'd left leaning against the nearby stone wall. "I'll see you in class."

"Indeed," Snape said, sounding less than pleased.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

"You want us to _what_?"

Harry gazed back at his friends with the patience of a snake waiting to strike. "You heard me just fine," he said calmly.

"Harry," Blaise said, shaking his head, "you've gone and lost it, haven't you? Why, in Merlin's name, would you want us to befriend Malfoy's followers?"

"I have my reasons," Harry said, in a futile attempt to sound wise and mysterious. Millicent gave him a Look.

"All right," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Having Slytherin split down the middle like it is, well, it's not a good idea. It'll just push all the others farther away, and when Voldemort returns, they'll go straight for him."

"Don't say that name!" Theodore hissed. Harry rolled his eyes.

"_When_ he returns?" Millicent repeated, bushy eyebrows raised.

"Yes, when he returns," Harry agreed, and suddenly he sounded much older and much more tired than any eleven year old had a right to sound. "He will, I don't doubt it. There's only so much muggle weaponry can do, you know, especially against a wizard like Vo- all right, Nott, calm down- like You-Know-Who."

"Look," Blaise said with admirable sense, "don't you think we should be a little more concerned with the fact that one of our teachers wants you dead, or at least seriously injured?"

"Should've known something was up with Quirrell," Millicent said darkly, cracking her knuckles as she glowered. "All that bloody stuttering..."

"Stuttering doesn't equal evil, you know," Harry pointed out.

Millicent snorted. "Yes, but you're just Gryffindor enough to think that there's good in everyone, Potter."

Harry's eyes darkened, and when he spoke, his voice was tight and hard. "I've met quite a few people without even an ounce of good in them," he said coolly. "And not a one of them stuttered."

"Merlin's balls, can we just get on with this!" Theodore snapped. "Stuttering...honestly, who cares if he stutters? It's clearly just an act. And Harry, stop getting all melodramatic; you keep on like you were, and thunder'll start crashing and lightning streaking and it'll be Transylvania before you know it."

They stared at him. Theodore sneered back.

"Right," Blaise said slowly. "Are you feeling all right?"

Theodore bared his teeth.

"Someone needs a nap," Millicent drawled.

"That's enough," Harry said quietly. "Blaise, I'll deal with Quirrell by and by. And as for Malfoy and his friends, the sooner you befriend them, the stronger their ties to you will be, right?"

"Now you're thinking like a Slytherin," Millicent said approvingly.

"And what do you know about thinking, Bulstrode?" Nott asked snidely.

Harry rolled his eyes. Why he put up with these people, he honestly couldn't say.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Snape held Harry back after class the next time he had Potions. He was rather surprised- Snape usually only kept the students he didn't like after class, and it was pretty obvious that the Head of Slytherin favored Harry and his friends.

"Sir?" Harry asked curiously, approaching the teacher's desk. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Potter, surprisingly you did not," Snape said in his normal irritable way. "Now. I wished to ask you if you had any concerns about certain members of the faculty...?" He trailed off, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry knew right away what his Head of House was getting at. "I am rather worried about Quirrell," he said blandly.

"Professor Quirrell," Snape corrected coldly, but there was a little sardonic twist to his lips that belied his reprimand. "Show proper respect, Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed. "_Professor_ Quirrell, then. He doesn't seem too terribly fond of me, you see." He wore his most innocent expression, which he knew was rather ruined by his scar.

Snape regarded him pensively, before nodding seemingly to himself and waving his wand. The door slammed shut and Harry felt his skin tingle as wards went up.

Snape leaned forward, his eyes glittering and his lips set in a hard, thin line. Harry met his gaze staunchly, wondering what was going on.

Finally, his professor spoke, in his softest and most dangerous voice.

"What I am about to tell you, Potter, must remain a secret. If I hear that you've so much as breathed a word of this to any of your friends, I will skin you alive and use your innards as potions ingredients. Do I make myself clear?"

Eyes wide, Harry nodded.

Satisfied, Snape continued. "There is an object of considerable power hidden here at Hogwarts. Can you guess where?"

Harry's brow furrowed as he thought. Dumbledore had warned them against going somewhere... "The third floor corridor?" he asked. Pleased, Snape smiled.

"Very good, Potter. There are several protections in place, protections that should serve an adequate barrier against Quirrell...but there are always ways past protections and shields, as you well know. Quirrell wants the object that is hidden; I suspect he is somehow working for the remaining Death Eaters or the Dark Lord himself."

Harry felt rather faint. "Why...why are you telling me this?" he asked quietly.

"You are a somewhat intelligent boy, Potter," Snape said, "and a naturally curious one. I would rather you know the dangers than go sniffing around and find out for yourself exactly how deadly Hogwarts' secrets are."

Harry smiled grimly. "You know me so well."

Snape's gaze was piercing, and Harry could almost imagine he was reading his mind. But that was ridiculous, really.

"It is my job to know my students, Mister Potter. And loathe though I am to admit it, you are in many ways a special case."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He hated being singled out, but if it meant he'd get answers...well, then he could just about stand it, he supposed.

"You will not repeat what you have learned to _anyone_, Potter, not even Dumbledore. The Headmaster would be less than pleased if he learned I have been so free with you."

"Right," Harry agreed, now a bit nervous. This was _big._ "Er...this object, it wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Gringott's break-in, would it?"

Snape blinked, then smirked unpleasantly. "Five points to Slytherin for actually using your brain, Potter. Now get out of here." He waved his wand again, and the wards fell and the door opened. "If McGonagall asks where you've been, tell her I kept you."

"I will. And thanks, Professor," Harry said sincerely.

Severus watched the boy go with a sigh. He didn't understand Potter- he was a Slytherin, yes, but something in him was so open, so genuine, in a way that no Slytherin should be. It was...troubling.

Shaking his head, he put thoughts of Potter out of his mind. He had a class to prepare for and Potions to brew, and no time to waste wool-gathering.

ooooo000oooooooooo000ooooo

And that's that, for now. I don't know when I'll update again; I've got a severe case of writer's block, and while I seem to be able to churn out multitudes of one-shot fics (go ahead and read 'em, folks- there's something for everyone) I'm incapable of getting out a chapter of a long fic. It's terribly frustrating.

Thanks to:

ManIACjAcKaL, Numbirosa, linky2, spacecatdet, ParvisSira, Kateri1, HecateDeMort, sage-serenity, Nemi Jade, Loony Lisa Lovegood, athenakitty, Jazzylady, gallandro-83, Tonnocal, SS2 Megami-sama, Jewelclaw Lady of Wind, jennifer, Gohan00, Nytingale, E.A.V, Illucia, Shea Loner, Sariel Aleithea, Ganymade, ossini, Spezlee, lonelysltherinslowlydying, futago akuma-tenshi01, GoddessMoonLady, Riina, dave gerecke, MiruSedna, jbcna, Siri Kat, Crystal Moon Dragon, Talons, Dirbatua, The Angsty Gothic Angel, Fire Gazer, japanese-jew, Nahirta, debz, amarantha, C. Rose, everpresent, Julie Long, and Shadowed Rains. Whew. Love you all!


End file.
